The House
by Nylah
Summary: Danny and his friends think it's a laugh, a joke. Dash dares them to spend the night in a house that is said to be haunted. Danny knows there is nothing wrong with the house, his ghost sense doesn't go off, right? Wrong!
1. Sleepover

A/N: Here it is, finally, the first (short) chapter of 'The House'. This story would have been up far earlier if I hadn't had a short discussion with Devianta, which made me rethink the whole thing. I'm still not sure if I'm gonna scare her but I'll try my best...:)

I was gonna change the title to something more poetic, but I'm just not good at that and besides this title grew on me. It always amazed me that nobody would do a story about a haunted house, I mean, it's so obvious (maybe that's the reason). I know there are several haunted house stories out there but they're all ... dead (pun intentional :). I have three full chapters and the epilogue finished and the rest of it outlined fairly detailed, there's no reason for me not to update at least once a week, apart from sheer laziness. Or unless I get sidetracked (it happens).

Reviews? Question? Constructive criticism? Yes please. I always reply to signed reviews.

Rated for a reason.

Blanket disclaimer for the whole story: Danny Phantom is the property of Butch Hartman. I'm merely borrowing his characters for my own amusement, no money is made from this.

* * *

**THE HOUSE**

**Chapter 1: Sleepover**

* * *

"Come on, it's just a house and Dash is an idiot." 

"Well duh. But that doesn't mean this place isn't creepy."

Creepy was an excellent way to describe the old brick house, standing a little away from the road between the trees of the forest that surrounded most of Amity Park. It looked like it had been uninhabited for a long time, maybe decades even, with the paint of the woodwork all but gone, the broken windows, the overgrown garden and driveway. It could be seen from the road, but only barely and most people just passed it by. Just another abandoned house, nothing to worry about.

If they had taken the trouble to enter the rusty gate that had been pushed out of it's hinges a while back by playing children, they would have reconsidered. It must have been a pretty house once, two stories high, tiled roof, red brick walls. They would have been able to imagine flowery curtains behind the windows, waiving a little in the light breeze of the sweet summer air.

Three stone steps led up to the front door in the middle of the symmetric house, two large windows to the left and two to the right. You could just see it opening and a happy family pour out into the front yard, a small boy playing with his ball, a little girl in a light blue dress, laughing happily while their parents stood there in the doorway, smiling. And then they would get into their car and drive off and the house would wither and darken, the paint coming off, the windows dark holes that seemed to suck the light out from around it, the gay curtains just gray rags.

That was the point where most people thought better of it, their original plan of exploring the house suddenly evaporating, remembering that they had better things to do. Turning around and leaving, they would spread the rumor that the house was haunted, that it was unsafe, best to keep well away from. And in Amity Park, when a place was labeled 'haunted', people stayed away.

Unless you were a teen on a dare.

Danny turned to his friends, an impatient smile on his face. "So is the Ghost Zone."

Tucker shifted his feet in the dirt of the driveway. It had been paved with cobble stones once, but it was now completely overgrown and the stones were buried under the weeds and plants. It widened at the house, allowing cars to turn around instead of having to back out through the gate onto the road again.

"The Ghost Zone is dangerous," Sam said pointedly.

She was standing next to Danny, apprehensively eying the house. As a goth, she had relished in the idea of spending the night in a haunted house. In fact, her own room looked like something out of a horror movie, much to her parent's despair. But looking at the eerie house she had second thoughts. She let her heavy backpack filled with snacks, soda cans and candles slip on the ground, but held on to her sleeping bag.

"Aw Sam, you're not backing out on me are you? I thought you wanted to do this?"

"Yeah, well, what if the house really is haunted?"

Danny sighed exasperatedly. "Dash has been in there. Do you seriously think he would do that if the place were haunted?"

"How do you know he was really in there?"

"He described the place pretty accurately. We can check his story by just going in. Besides, my parents have been here, they found nothing and best of all, my ghost sense isn't going off. I don't know how much more proof you need. It just _looks_ creepy."

He stepped closer to her and grabbed her shoulders with both hands, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Don't worry, Sammykins, I'll protect you."

He then quickly jumped away before she could kick him. Tucker was grinning nervously at his friends as they started pushing each other, Danny frantically avoiding Sam's combat boots. He hadn't been happy with the idea of spending the night in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Amity Park from the beginning. To ward off his sense of uneasiness he carried a double amount of electronic equipment with him, among which two PDAs, a laptop computer, two separate hand held games and one mobile phone, the other having been demolished in a ghost fight earlier that week.

Some shouts and cheers came from the gate and Danny and Sam stopped fooling around, red faced. The three of them turned to watch Dash, Paulina, Kwan and several others standing on the road just outside the gate.

"Cowards," Danny muttered as he waved at them.

"I still think we should just go back," Sam said, wiping her hair out of her face, "It isn't worth it. This place really gives me a bad feeling."

"Isn't worth it? Field tickets to the Dumpty Humpty concert next week? They were completely sold out! I bet Dash has been sleeping in line for two days to get them!"

"Actually, that was Kwan," Tucker said.

Danny wasn't finished. "Besides, I have to do his homework for three months if I back out. I don't have time for that."

"Then why did you make that bet?" Sam said reasonably, "Remember the last time you made a bet with Dash?"

Danny shuddered for a moment, but then shrugged it off. "That's why I made a point of not going to eat his underwear again. But we can't loose guys. Those tickets are as good as ours."

* * *

Dash looked at the three geeks as they were standing on the driveway. The house gave him the creeps, there was absolutely no way he would go any nearer than this. He had never been in the house, although he had told everybody he had, just to irk Fenton in going in himself. And as an extra bonus, he took his two loser friends with him, the techno geek and the goth freak. 

His cousin had been in there once and had told him about it years ago, scaring the living daylights out of young Dash. He remembered the story word for word and he had had nightmares for weeks after that. Still had, on occasion. So when the opportunity arose last Wednesday, he had dared Fenton to go in and spend the night there. For some reason, the boy always ticked him off with that knowing smile of his, the bored look in his eyes whenever Dash tried to punch him, the sometimes surprising elusiveness when he suddenly wasn't there where Dash expected him. He gave Dash the impression that even though he did his best to make his life miserable, Dash couldn't touch him, he wasn't important. Just annoying.

Kwan gave him an irritated look. He had been waiting in front of the ticket office for twenty seven hours two months ago, skipping school and getting a huge detention in the process, while Dash had slept peacefully in his bed and hadn't said so much as thank you. And now Dash had used the precious tickets in a stupid bet with that Fenton dude. He'd hate to lose them to those three geeks.

"Are you sure they'll come running right out?" He asked his friend.

"Of course they will. The house is haunted and Fenton is afraid of ghosts. You wait and see."

"Well yes, but, like, his parents are ghost hunters."

"Your point?"

"Well, he could have taken anti ghost weapons with him, those cannons his parents use all the time and just shoot them all down."

Dash looked at Kwan in disbelieve. "Are you kidding me? This is _Fenton_ we're talking about! Do you see _him_ hunting ghosts? Besides, did you see any cannons on them?"

"No, but..."

"And he's going to do my homework for three months. This is so totally worth it."

Kwan started grumbling to himself, something like 'your homework, not mine, and they are my tickets', but he didn't say it out loud. He turned away from Dash and almost bumped into Paulina, who had a bored look on her face.

"Tell them to hurry up and go in. I have better things to do than just stand here outside an ugly old house," she said.

Dash smirked at her and raised his voice at the three teens who were still standing on the driveway, whispering to each other.

"Hey! Get going already!"

They turned to look at them and the goth girl very childishly stuck her tongue out. Then the tree of them heaved up their sleeping bags and backpacks – whatever were they all taking with them, Dash wondered – and walked to the front door. They stood still for a moment and then Fenton stepped forward and pushed tentatively against the door. It opened easily, giving an eerie squeak. Dash watched as they peered inside and then jumped three feet in the air when they started screaming.

"Haaaah," he cried, backing away from the gate, ready to run if there came anything out of the house. His friends backed away also, looking fearfully at the three friends at the house who were... rolling on the ground with laughter. Dash got angry.

"Hey! That wasn't funny!"

They didn't answer him for a while, hiccuping and snickering every time they tried to look at the blond jock that had screamed like a girl. Finally they managed to quiet down somewhat and they looked back at Dash one last time, Fenton momentarily locking eyes with him. He was still laughing, he could see, but there was something else there too, something that worried Dash. A fierce defiance of him, the ghosts, the world. Suddenly he wasn't so sure anymore that he would win the bet.


	2. Exploring

A/N: Hi! An update, already! Don't expect me to update this soon every time though, I like to keep ahead of things. I had this chapter finished, chapter 4 is coming along nicely and the first chapter was kinda short, so that's why I'm updating now.

Some of you will recognize elements from my one shot 'Horror' (it's in my drabble collection with the strange name), I based that one on the story idea for this.

* * *

**THE HOUSE  
**

**Chapter 2: Exploring**

* * *

They stepped into the house and found themselves in a large, square hallway. Opposite the door were the stairs to the first floor, paint peeling off the banister. The hallway was lit by the sunlight shining through the high windows on the second floor, blinding them for a moment. Sam took two steps and dumped her things on the ground, blowing up a cloud of dust in the process. 

"Ew," she said, waving her hand in front of her face.

Tucker and Danny followed suit and they stood there a moment, taking in their surroundings.

"Dash was right," Danny said, "A hall with stairs, a door to the right leading to...," he stepped to the door and pushed it open, "some sort of living room, a door to the left," he left the door to the living room open and traversed the hall to the other side, "to the dining room. That's good enough for me. Where shall we set up camp?"

At the moment he spoke his last words the front door slammed shut with a loud bang. The three jumped and whirled on their feet to stare at the door. Danny laughed nervously.

"The wind, he he."

"Are you nuts?" Sam said, "Have you slept through every horror movie we saw at my place? Always, _always_ when the people about to be slaughtered in a haunted house enter the house, the door slams behind them and they can't get out!"

"Come on Sam, I didn't sleep through all of them. This is just classic! A real haunted house!"

He stepped to the door and pulled it open again.

"See? We can get out any time we want. It was the _wind_."

Tucker had moved to the back of the hall, where there was another door.

"Hey guys, here's the kitchen."

Danny and Sam grinned at each other and followed Tucker into the large kitchen. A counter ran all the way along the wall on the right side, containing an old fashioned sink with no taps. Old fashioned wooden cabinets adorned the walls, some doors hanging open. Large windows gave view on the overgrown back yard and the back door hung loose in it's hinges, ajar. The place was incredibly filthy, leaves and twigs on the floor, some black goo on the counter, the table, the walls.

"Ew. Again," Sam said.

Danny shook his head. For a moment he had thought he saw the kitchen waver, but then it was gone. It was nothing, he decided, it was probably the lack of sleep he got last night, trying to find Technus who had invented a new game of hide and seek in a computer store. He walked to the door on the side of the kitchen and discovered it led to the dining room. That made sense.

"Let's put our stuff in the living room and then have a look around," he said, stepping into the dining room.

A large table stood in the middle of it, but there were no chairs. The windows on the front had some gray rags for curtains, but you could still slightly see the print on it. They waved a bit in the draft that was coming from the windows. On the wall, above a huge fireplace, hung a painting of a man in a black suit and a black hat on his head, having a stern look and an unpleasant sneer on his face. For some reason, Danny shuddered when he looked at him. The man seemed to stare at him disapprovingly, as if berating him for trespassing. He turned around to Sam and Tucker, beckoning them to follow him.

"Check this out," he said, pointing at the painting, "What a creep."

Sam and Tucker looked at each other in surprise and then back at Danny again. He wondered why they looked at him that way until he turned around to look at the painting once more. The frame was still there and so was part of the canvas, but the middle of the painting, where the man had been, was scorched and burnt, as if someone with a real grudge against the guy used a blowtorch on it. He closed his eyes and opened them again, but the scene hadn't changed.

"Uh...right. For a moment I thought...never mind."

He walked quickly to the door leading to the hallway, grabbed his backpack and sleeping bag and carried them to the living room, more slowly followed by Tucker and Sam. He dumped it on the ground and walked to the front windows, the ones facing the overgrown driveway. He could see Dash and his friends still standing at the gate, staring at the house. Dash' red convertible was parked at the side of the road, next to where Paulina's had been.

Danny felt a vague disappointment she had already left, she had been impressed after all that he was going to do this. Well, maybe a little. Or maybe she had just come along with Dash to see him come out screaming so she could humiliate him even more than she usually did. Tucker came to stand next to him and also looked at the figures hanging around the gate and sitting on the hood of Dash' car.

"Hey, Paulina's gone," he said.

"Yeah," Danny answered, a little more wistfully than he had intended.

Sam looked at the two boys at the window, their heads pressed against the dirty glass, making round imprints on the dust. A flash of anger went through her at their mentioning the witch's name and she suppressed it mercilessly. So what if they still drooled over the over preppy cheerleader after nearly two years, it wasn't like she cared, was it? They would grow up eventually and see her for the shallow witch she was and then maybe she herself would have a chance...

She saw Danny looking at her with a pained expression on his face and realized that he was expecting a fiery comment on Paulina's assets, or lack thereof, or maybe even some combat boot related violence. She decided to throw him off and smiled sweetly at him, seeing to her satisfaction that his fear changed into confusion.

"Come on," Tucker said, oblivious, "Let's go explore, we still have two hours of daylight left."

They left the living room and clambered up the staircase that was cracking ominously. It ended in a hallway that was running the length of the house. It seemed ridiculously long, with many doors leading to the various rooms. Sam pushed open the door right in front of the stairs and they stared into a bathroom filled with cobwebs and dust. The bath had a curtain hanging in front of it and when Danny stepped inside to have a look, Sam felt an unreasonable fear that there was something behind that curtain.

"Don't be ridiculous Sam," she berated herself, "You've seen too many horror movies."

Meanwhile Danny was laughing a bit and extending his hand to pull the curtain aside, but when he touched it the curtain just came down on top of him, revealing... nothing. Just a bath tub.

"Gah!" Danny yelled, "Get this thing off me! It's full of spiders!"

Sam jumped forwards and pulled the rag from his head. He started flapping his hands and patting himself and she grabbed his hands.

"Stand still, you idiot. You're killing them!"

He stopped to stare at her and then shuddered as one of the spiders crept on his neck. Sam gently scooped it up in her hands and placed it gently on the floor, where it crawled away under the sink.

"Whoa," Tucker exclaimed, "What a monster!"

Sam quietly checked Danny over for more creepy crawlers and removed two smaller ones. Then she stood back and smirked at them.

"I can't believe you boys would scream over a little spider," she said.

Danny scowled at her and stepped out of the bathroom into the hallway, muttering to himself. Tucker just shrugged.

"I don't like bugs," he said, "In any form."

Now back in the hallway, Danny decided to go right, not waiting for the others to follow him. He opened the next door, but cautiously didn't go in this time. It was some bedroom, completely empty. The window was open and there was a dark stain on the floor under it, as if the rain had come in for years and made the floor rot away. They would have to be very careful here, because they could find themselves downstairs again in the blink of an eye without taking the stairs.

He looked back and saw that Sam had followed him, while Tucker had gone left. She peered past him into the room and wrinkled her nose.

"More dust. And we'd better be careful up here or we might sink through the floor without the help of your intangibility," she commented.

Tucker had stepped into a room and looked around. It seemed to have been a nursery, because there was an old cot standing in the corner. It still had blankets in it even and he walked closer to examine it. To his surprise, he saw that the blankets were clean and soft, in fact they looked new. The cot, he saw now that he was close, looked new too and the blankets had been drawn back a bit, as if somebody had only just removed the infant from it.

"Guys," he said, looking back to the door he was sure he had left open.

It was closed now, revealing that on the inside it was painted in a light blue color, with little bears on it. And the walls... they looked freshly painted in white and blue and the curtains were drawn half open, letting the sunshine in, lighting the soft carpet on the floor.

He heard a faint sound behind him and he swirled, his heart pounding in his chest. A tiny music box was on the dresser, it's lid open, revealing two dancing bears, turning and turning, dancing on the sweet melody coming from it. Tucker couldn't keep his eyes from it, hypnotized by the dancing bears and when it stopped he walked up to it and picked the box up. In the back there was a tiny key and he turned it to rewind it. It started playing again when he put it back in that strange, echoing tune.

He smiled.

Meanwhile Danny and Sam had opened every door on the other side of the house, revealing more bedrooms and one more bathroom, which Danny prudently didn't enter this time. They saw nothing out of the ordinary, nor did they fall through the floor anywhere, the house seemed structurally sound.

They reached the end of the hallway and peered out of the broken window down on the grass below. The shadow of the house was getting long and they realized the sun was setting, so they turned around to go back down and get something to eat.

"That's weird," Sam said, looking down the hallway.

"What?"

"Doesn't this hallway seem a bit long for this house? It wasn't _that _big..."

Indeed the hallway seemed to go on forever, and in the distance they could see the window on the other side, very small, the sunlight pouring in. A great many doors were there, way more than they had opened to look inside when they walked this way.

"Um...it's just an illusion?" Danny said hesitantly, not wanting to admit that there was something off about the place.

They started walking back and it seemed to take forever to get back to the staircase. Sam silently counted the doors they passed and stopped at twenty. Then she looked back and gasped, grabbing Danny's arm. He turned too and looked in surprise at the now short hallway, with only two doors on the right and two on the left.

"This is...too weird," Sam said.

Danny shivered and shrugged it off, again.

"Look," he said, pointing at the smaller staircase going upwards, "We can go further up! I bet there's an attic there."

Before Sam could stop him he ascended the stairs and since she didn't want to be left behind, she followed him. It was dark up there, the only light coming from a small, very filthy window in the slanted roof. There was a door at the top of the stairs and Danny opened it to step into the attic, closely followed by Sam.

The darkness there enclosed them and they couldn't see anything, so Danny extended his left hand and formed a small, glowing green ectoball and let it hover above and in front them, lighting the space. From what they could tell the attic was huge and covered the entire house. It was filled with old furniture, boxes, chests and several unidentified objects. The place smelled like dust and old newspapers, the stale air not having been moved in decades until their intrusion.

"Wow," Danny said as he stepped carefully past some boxes, "Look at all this stuff! Why did they leave this all behind?"

"I guess they didn't need it anymore," Sam said distractedly.

She stepped closer to one of the chests and tried to lift the lid, but it wouldn't bulge. Danny drifted off further into the attic, stepping over more boxes, an old bicycle, a pile of old Donald Duck magazines. He picked one up to look at the date and the paper crackled in his hands. June 5, 1953 it said on the cover. He put it down again, frowning.

"These must be worth something," he muttered to himself, trying to estimate how many there were.

He moved further, following what seemed to be some sort of path between the junk. The piles of boxes were getting very high, towering over him and he lit another ecto ball because the light of one he left with Sam didn't reach here. Something brushed his hair and he looked up, but he didn't see anything. He increased the intensity of the ecto ball a little and the air seemed to ripple in front of him. He stared ahead, into a seemingly endless pathway between the boxes and as he watched, he could see it unfold even further.

"What the...?"

* * *

Sam heard Danny wander off, but she didn't pay attention to him. She looked at the old chests standing close to the doorway, heavy oak chests with metal bands around them, like you would expect in a medieval castle. They were locked though, with heavy padlocks that looked very strong. With some regret she abandoned the chests and stepped to the right, making sure she stayed within range of the hovering green ecto ball Danny had left for her. She rounded a corner and there it was and she smiled in delight. 

It was an old doll house, an exact replica of the house they were in, resembling it with infinite detail. She stepped closer and squatted down before it to take a closer look. She saw the entrance downstairs, the living room, dining room and kitchen, fully furnished with tables, chairs, little side tables, a canopy with a flowery print and matching tiny pillows. The table in the dining room was set with little plates on it and wine glasses and when she squinted she could even see the silver laying next to the plates.

"Wow," she said, "This is..."

* * *

Tucker was still listening to the music box when he realized something was wrong, very wrong. The sound of it no longer sounded sweetly, but shrill, off key and it started to get louder and louder until he held his hands over his ears. The room suddenly turned darker and seemed to shrink, the paint came peeling of the walls and the door, the carpet turned to dust under his feet. He saw the little music box turn black and the dancing bears were no longer bears but little red devils with horns and tridents in their hands. He extended his hand and slammed it shut and the screeching music stopped. 

He was sweating and panting heavily and shakily he turned around, intending to make a run for it when he briefly glanced at the old, worn out cot that was still standing in the corner. He stopped and stared at it. There was something underneath it, something liquid and red and it was dripping out of the cot. He could hear the drops splatting into the growing red stain and the dripping sound grew louder until he could no longer hear the drum of his heart.

* * *

Just as Sam started to examine the second floor of the doll house, a smile on her face, something changed. The house wavered and rippled in front of her and suddenly it started to turn black and she heard a crackling sound as from a fire, but she saw no smoke. Then the blackness seemed to extend itself beyond the house, spilling out on the floor, attaching itself to the boxes and chests that were standing close, almost touching her hand. 

She fell backwards on the floor and scurried away as it closed in on her, touching her boots, her legs and then her back hit one of the oak chests she had been admiring before.

* * *

Danny took a step backwards and blinked, not believing what he just saw. The house _extended_ itself in front of him and he could no longer explain it away as being just an illusion. 

"_Interesting..."_

The whispered comment somehow seemed to come from all around him and he couldn't pinpoint where it came from. Cold fingers touched his neck briefly, almost lovingly, while at the same time a short puff of condensed air left his mouth, signifying the proximity of a ghost. He swirled, shivering from the cold sensation, expecting the ghost to be right behind him, but he could see nothing.

"Sam!" he thought.

He started running back towards the entrance, stumbling over boxes and shattering the pile of magazines, ripping them as his shoes stepped on the brittle paper. He thought he heard a soft, amused, laughter behind him, but he ignored it, pushing the boxes out of his way until he found her.

She was sitting with her back against a large chest, staring at an old, worn out doll house in front of her, a blank expression on her face. Danny sighed in relief, relaxing when he found her to be alright. He looked back to where he came from, but his ghost sense no longer went off and all was dark behind him.

"Hey Sam, what are you looking at?" he asked, breathless, as he let himself drop down next to her.

She remained silent, her eyes transfixed on the doll house that, now that he looked at it closer, was an exact replica of the house they were in. The left side of it was blackened, as if there had been a fire, which struck him as funny for some reason.

"Hey, look at that, the doll house burnt down! I bet they used toy fire trucks to put out the fire too... Sam? Sam, are you even listening?"

Suddenly worried he nudged her in the shoulder, which would normally have earned him a punch, but she didn't acknowledge him at all. She just kept staring at the doll house, her eyes unmoving, her hands digging into the rough wooden floor as if she wanted to crawl through it.

Danny waved his hand in front of her face and she didn't even blink. Now very worried he grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard, causing her head to bob back and forth, hitting the chest in the process with a painful sounding thunk.

"Sam! Wake up!" he yelled at her.

"Huh?"

She slowly averted her eyes from the doll house and tried to focus on her friend instead, who for some reason had grabbed her head with both hands and was forcing her to look him in the eyes from up close.

"Why... what are you doing," she whispered, mesmerized by the two worried blue orbs in front of her.

He stared at her, relief now evident in his expression, but he held on to her for a moment longer. She saw something else flash through his eyes for a moment, something that sent shivers up her spine and then it was gone and he let go. He backed away from her and averted his eyes, taking a deep breath as if to steady himself.

"Danny? What's wrong?" she asked him but he wouldn't look at her.

"Let's go downstairs," was all he said.

* * *

Tucker was standing in the hallway, slightly baffled, because he had no recollection on how he got there. He blinked at the bright sunbeams of the setting sun that came through the window at the end of the hallway, lighting tiny dust particles hovering in the air. Then he turned around and looked back into the empty room behind him, empty but for the cot standing in the corner. 

Had he really just been in that room, or had it been his imagination getting the better of him? For a moment he seemed to see a small blue blanket drenched in blood lying in the cot and he shivered. This house was getting to him and he didn't like it at all. He felt strangely drawn to the room though and he was about to enter when he heard his friends coming down the stairs.

He met them at the bottom of the stairs, slightly surprised by their expressions. Sam was white faced, looking as if she had, well, seen a ghost. Danny just looked worried and, Tucker thought as he studied his friend who he had known practically his whole life, something else too, something he couldn't put his finger on.

* * *

Dash was sitting with his back against the rusty gate, dozing in the warmth of the setting sun when he heard footsteps and he looked up, expecting to see Fenton and his friends come running out of the house, but it was just Kwan. 

"So, are they coming out or what?" Kwan said and he stood beside Dash to look at the house, his hands on the bars of the gate.

"Nah, but they will soon," Dash said, taking another good look at the house, staring at the front door, willing it to open.

They didn't come out. He looked at his watch and saw that they had already been in there for an hour and he was getting a little impatient. He had better ways to spend a Friday night than sitting here and keep an eye on the losers, so that they couldn't cheat by leaving the house and come back in the morning pretending they spent the night there.

To make matters worse, all his friends, including Paulina, had left when it became apparent that the losers weren't going to come out immediately. They were laughing and chatting, trying to decide where to spend their night out. Dash had been obliged to stay behind with Kwan, since it had been his idea to set up Fenton and now it looked like he would be there all night.

The sun was slowly setting, lighting the house from behind, shining through the windows from back to front, making them light up orange. The house itself cast a deep shadow on the overgrown garden and for a moment Dash thought the house was smiling at him.

In the distance he could hear the rumbling of the approaching thunder storm.

* * *

_Yeah, yeah, I know, still not very scary. Can't have them running out of there yet though...:)  
_


	3. Candles

A/N: Several people mentioned the movie 'The Messengers'. Seriously, I haven't seen it (would have liked to, never got around to actually going). Everything in here comes straight out of my head, with some inspiration from Stephen King and Dean Koonz. I'll rent the movie after I finish this story...:)

* * *

**THE HOUSE  
**

**Chapter 3: Candles**

* * *

They were sitting on their sleeping bags in the middle of the living room, looking at the remnants of the day fading away, the last beams of the sun being cut off by the approaching dark clouds every now and then. A bag of potato chips was sitting on the floor between them, half empty already and a small bowl that had contained a small salad was standing next to Sam. Danny and Tucker were rolling an empty soda can back and forth while Sam looked on, a pensive expression on her face. 

Something had happened up in the attic, she was sure of that, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it was. One moment she was looking at the doll house, the next moment she was staring into Danny's eyes.

_A dark cloud emanated from the doll house, creeping up at her, touching her, going through her..._

Sam blinked, then shivered. It was getting dark, she decided and she now wished she had brought something else beside candles. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, sitting in an old, haunted house, lighting candles, telling each other ghost stories by the flickering light. She now thought they could have equally well told each other ghost stories by the light of a bright gas lamp. But there was nothing she could do about it now so she started rummaging through her backpack, taking out the black candles one by one, and putting them in candle holders she had brought with her.

She was just about to light a match when Danny suddenly grabbed her hand, smiling.

"Here, let me," he said.

He extended his hand and pointed his index finger at one of the candles, frowning in concentration.

"Wait!" Sam yelled at him, "Don't you remember the last time you tried to do that!? You set fire to the entire chemistry lab!"

"Relax, I've been practicing."

Technically, this was true. A month ago he had discovered he was able to heat up things to the point that they combusted and of course he had to try and light the Bunsen burner in the lab at school, with a disastrous result. And although the teacher never really found out what had caused the small explosion at the table Danny and Tucker were working at, they had received a huge detention anyway. He had been practicing after that, with mixed results.

A deep scowl formed on his face and he looked almost angry now as he almost touched the candle and for a moment, a small flame appeared at the tip of his finger, dancing closer and closer to the wick. Then suddenly a huge flame engulfed the candle, instantly melting it, leaving only a small black puddle on the floor.

"Darn it."

Without waiting for his friend's commentary Danny grabbed the next candle and put it in front of him. Sam and Tucker backed away from him, but this time he managed to light it. He turned to look at them triumphantly and tried to grab the next candle, but Sam beat him to it.

"I'll light the rest of them thank you very much."

Tucker grinned at him. "This is so cool," he said.

"_Ghost... boy..."_

"Huh?" Danny looked around frantically, but the whispering voice was gone and his friends looked at him questionably.

"Um, you didn't just hear..."

Tucker and Sam shook their heads.

"I thought I heard something..."

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the uneasy feeling that had been creeping up on him since they had come down from their exploration of the house. First the strange illusions in the hallway upstairs and in the attic, as if the house was way larger than it seemed, then Sam sitting there, staring at the doll house as if she wasn't really there...

"_...Ghost... boy..."_

...the whispering voice, sounding as if coming from all around him, echoing inside his head. His eyes skittered across the room, trying to find the source of it as he listened to his friends chat. The distant rumbling from the approaching thunder storm did nothing to soothe his nerves either, nor did the dancing shadows on the walls from the candles. Still, his ghost sense didn't go off, so it must all be in his imagination. He chuckled nervously. The house was so spooky it was getting to him. With an effort, he turned his attention back to his friends.

* * *

Tucker was grumbling to himself as he watched the myriad of text, pictures and links scroll over the screen of his laptop computer, impatiently clicking the scroll bar to get where he wanted to go. He had tried accessing the internet via his mobile phone, only to discover there was no connection out here, which left him feeling really cut off from the world as he perceived it. As soon as he had heard of the crazy bet Danny had made with Dash he had been searching for information on the house, downloading everything he could find onto his computer. He hadn't had a chance to look at it yet though, so that was what they were doing now. 

Or at least, what he and Sam were doing, him sitting cross legged in front of the laptop sitting on the floor, her lying flat on her stomach next to him, her chin on her hands, every now and then ordering him to stop or keep going. Danny just sat there, staring into space as if he wasn't really there, every now and then glancing out of the window at the dark clouds that were rapidly approaching.

Tucker sighed inwardly. It would have been creepy to spend the night here in this house with only the light of candles to ward off the dark shadows, but a thunderstorm would make it outright scary. He did so not look forward to this.

"Stop!"

Sam pushed him aside and took hold of the mouse, scrolling back a little.

"Here it is."

Tucker leaned closer and even Danny scooted over, peering over their shoulders.

"_Touring Amity Park - Bone House_

_September 18, 1994_

_Leaving Amity Park on the east side, we take the secondary road in the direction of Amity Village, curving and twisting across the gentle slopes of the hills hidden by the forest. The transition from city to unspoiled nature is quite sudden here, one moment the high, rundown apartments buildings from this less than recommendable part of town looming over us, the next moment surrounded by trees from Amity Forest. The run down street changes into a country lane, with only a few houses scattered between the trees._

_One of the more interesting ones is a house which is generally referred to by the people as 'Bone House'. The reason as to why it is named that way remains unclear, however some people believe it to be built on an ancient grave yard or burial ground. The current house was built in 1923 by a wealthy factory owner for his family and has been restored and reconstructed several times during the past seventy years. The last inhabitants left the house ten years ago for unknown reasons, it has been empty ever since._

_It is said that the current house replaces another house, supposedly burnt down in 1905, but there are no records of this._

_As we follow the road to Amity Village..._

"OK," Tucker said, "So that's why they say this place is haunted. It's built on a grave yard. Who builds a house on a grave yard?"

"It's only hearsay, Tucker," Sam commented, "I don't think anybody would actually build a house on a graveyard."

Danny leaned back again, his hands on the floor behind him and vaguely listened to his friends arguing. There was something off with this house, he could feel it, and the fact that it was rumored to be built on a graveyard didn't surprise him. That couldn't be it though, even if it _was_ built on a graveyard, he would sense some ghostly activity. Which he had, he remembered, up in the attic, very briefly, his ghost sense had gone off just before he had found Sam looking all weird in front of the doll house.

"_Danny..."_

He started when he heard that whispering voice again and glanced at his friends, who didn't seem to hear it. Maybe he was going mad. Or maybe he could hear things because...

"_...freaky kid with freaky powers..."_

...he was a freaky kid with freaky powers. He shuddered and removed his hands from the cold floor.

"Guys..." he started and then it happened again.

The room was extending itself, growing bigger, tilting slightly and he felt totally disoriented. He took in a deep breath and he heard his friends suddenly go silent, staring wide eyed at the strange, twisted dimensions the room now had.

The windows at the back of the house seemed impossibly far away, glowing orange from the setting sun, seemingly on fire. The floor was straight, but seemed to twist around in the distance, starting to look like something from an Escher (1) drawing.

"What's happening," Sam whispered, turning to Danny with fear in her eyes.

"I... I don't know," he cracked, staring open mouthed deformation of his surroundings.

"It's not real," he muttered, "It's not real..."

"Danny, it looks real to me," came Tucker's frightened voice.

The candles started to flicker in a sudden breeze going through the house, making the flames dance wildly, ruffling their hair. There was no sound though, other than...

"_...ghost boy..."_

"Stop it!" Danny yelled, jumping up into a fighting stance, "Stop it! Show yourself! Stop playing with us!"

Nothing showed itself, but he heard a faint laughter coming from afar and then the room slammed back into it's normal proportions. Danny just stood there, tense, breathing hard, his fists clenched beside him. It took a conscious effort to relax and slowly let himself sink on the floor again.

"I think we should get out of here," Tucker said, a slight tremor in his voice, "Maybe there's no ghosts here but there is definitely something wrong with this house."

Sam nodded hesitantly and they both looked at Danny, as if the decision were his. He sat on his sleeping bag, cross legged and avoided their eyes. They were right of course, it would be best to get out of there, but then he would have lost the bet. Again. He didn't want to leave.

"_...they leave... you stay..."_

"Look," he said, looking up to them, "Why don't you guys leave and I'll stay, I'll be fine. Dash made that bet with me after all, you don't need to stay here."

A flash of anger crossed Sam's face. "Are you kidding us!" she said, "You know we won't leave you! If you're staying, we're staying too. But you knew that didn't you..."

Danny felt guilty and slightly annoyed. He was just about to bite back an angry retort when the orange glow of the sun rays suddenly died and put the room in darkness, save for the place they were sitting with the candles. A bright flash, almost immediately followed by a loud thunder announced the arrival of the thunderstorm and the air suddenly seemed alive with electricity.

* * *

Dash looked in the direction of the the house in alarm, looking not at the house but slightly past it at the ominous dark clouds that were approaching. The sun had sunk so low that it was now completely behind the house, shining through the windows, casting a strange light at the trees and the gate they were sitting at. For a moment he was paralyzed, the feeling that the house was trying to lure him in like a fly to a honey pot, but then the spell was broken and he turned around and ran to his car. 

"Let's get inside the car," he shouted to Kwan, as he started fumbling with the covers for the top.

There was going to fall some heavy rain very quickly and he wanted to be safely inside his car with the top closed before it started. He yanked the covers loose and Kwan jumped in the passenger seat. Dash hastily slid behind the wheel, turned his key and pressed the button to close the top. Nothing happened.

"What the..."

Dash tried again and again but the top wouldn't move.

"Dash," Kwan said, pointing at the indicator lights on the dashboard.

They were all dead. In his haste, Dash hadn't noticed that the car hadn't responded to his turning the key at all. He blinked in surprise. Surely he hadn't left the lights on? It had been broad daylight when they had arrived, the lights had been out and besides that an alarm would have gone off if he turned off the car without turning off the lights. It just couldn't be.

Dash jumped out of the car and started pulling at the edges of the top that was folded all the way back, but it was almost impossible to get a hold of it. Kwan joined him in his efforts, but the top seemed determined to resist them all the way and they couldn't get it out even an inch.

As they were struggling with the car, their only means of transportation out of there, it suddenly got very dark. A bright flash lighted the sky with a blindingly white light, almost immediately followed by loud thunder. A big raindrop hit his head and the wind suddenly picked up.

"Let's get inside the house," Kwan yelled, pointing at the ominous rolling cloud that was quickly approaching now.

"No way!" Dash yelled back and desperately started pulling at the top of his car again.

"We have to!"

Kwan ran around the car, grabbed Dash's arm and started dragging him to the house. The rain started falling then, no ordinary rain but a heavy downpour, soaking them instantly. Lightning lit their way, the white light showing their surroundings and the house with unsurpassed clarity for a very short moment, plunging them into darkness again immediately afterwards. When they neared the house, Dash started pulling back.

"We can't go in there," he yelled at his friend, trying to make himself heard over the now constant rumbling, "The place is haunted!"

"We can't stay out here either," Kwan yelled back.

Lightning flashed across the sky again and the house bathed in light for a moment, every detail, every crack in the paint, every hole in the windows clearly visible. The house seemed oddly alive, the black windows looking like the sunken in eyes from a skull, the small white fence near the door grinning teeth. With a squeak the door opened inwards.

With one good pull Kwan yanked Dash towards the door and shoved him inside, tumbling after him. They both fell on the floor and before they could get up the door closed behind them with a loud bang.

"Gyaaah," Dash yelled and he struggled go get up, trying to push Kwan, who had fallen on top of him, away from him.

"Well now, what have we here?"

Dash stopped his struggle, still awkwardly sprawled on the floor with Kwan now leaning over him, about to push himself up. The voice coming from the right sounded oddly menacing, even though he recognized Fenturd's voice. The two jocks stared at the figure standing in the doorway, lit from behind by what seemed like candlelight, his dark hair falling into his face, his eyes oddly shining.

Then two more figures appeared behind him and pushed him aside, something Dash thought oddly foolish of them, but the boy let them and stepped aside, smirking. He heard the voices of his friends inquiring if they were alright, asking what they were doing here, but he kept staring at the target of many of his frustrations and he wished for a moment he had never set eyes on Danny Fenton. In a strange way, he seemed powerful, intimidating, even dangerous. He remembered locking eyes with him just before the losers entered the house and he shivered involuntarily.

Danny stepped closer and the spell was broken, the scary aura was gone and he was again Fentina, clumsily stepping closer to them, half hidden by his friends who had helped Kwan to his feet. Lightning lit the hallway and for a moment they stood frozen on the spot, then Dash clambered to his feet and pushed Sam and Tucker aside, stopping only inches away from Danny.

"You'd better have something to eat in here," he said to him, trying to regain some of his dignity.

The smaller boy shrank back and averted his eyes nervously, looking at his friends for support, but Dash knew they weren't going to help him.

"I... we already ate most of it," he stuttered and was suddenly lifted into the air, his feet dangling uncomfortably and his hands clutching desperately at Dash's arms as he lifted the boy by his shirt.

Dash was about to say something when several things happened. First of all, the front door suddenly opened, as did the door to the kitchen, and a fierce wind started blowing through the house, sending Tucker to the ground and thundering into Dash and his captive. With a squeak he let go of him, trying to protect himself from the hail that hammered into him.

A high pitched scream sounded from somewhere in the house and then a low wail started, rising and falling, soon joined by another one and another one. Dash crouched on the floor near the wall, holding his hands over his head, too afraid to move or even scream. The others were screaming though, scrambling to get away from the door, holding their hand over their ears to protect them from the shrieking that vibrated through the house. The only one still standing was Danny.

The wind tore at him, making his shirt flap madly, drenched with the water that came with the wind. His hair blew around his wet face and for a moment Dash thought he saw the boy's eyes flash an impossible glowing green.

"STOP!"

Danny's voice sounded weak and shrill in the noise, but strangely enough it had an immediate and strange effect. The doors closed, the wind subsided and the strange wailing sound stopped abruptly. Except for the storm tugging at the house outside, the silence was deafening. They all stared at him.

"How... how did you do that?" Sam whispered, voicing what the others were thinking.

"Yes Fenturd, how did you do that," Dash joined in, shakily, trying to regain the upper hand and stop himself from panicking.

Danny just stared at them, his eyes strangely alight and then a look of confusion crossed his face.

"I don't know," he said abruptly, turned and walked back into the living room.

* * *

_1) M.C. Escher, graphic artist, most famous for his so-called impossible structures. Type in 'Escher' at a search engine, you'll get some interesting drawings.  
_


	4. Freak

A/N: Hahaha. You think it's scary now, while I'm just warming up :) Still, I'm glad I manage to scare my reviewers (well, all except one whom I now believe cannot be scared). Here we go, on with the show, I'm having so much fun with this story its... scary.. So far it looks like the story is going to have nine chapters plus an epilogue.

OK, maybe this story needs an extra warning. Don't wanna spoil anything though. Let's just say it's going to get a lot darker and I didn't put it in the 'horror' genre for nothing.

* * *

**THE HOUSE  
**

**Chapter 4: Freak**

* * *

Danny was sitting on his sleeping bag, making sure his hands stayed away from the cold floor. For some reason he didn't like touching the cold, rough wooden planks, they made him feel as if there was something creeping up on him, like invisible tiny ants scurrying over his arms. 

They had moved to the other side of the room, close to the back windows, as far away from the broken front windows as they could, and they had placed the candles behind the overturned side table to keep them out of the wind. Still, the flames flickered and danced, making their grotesquely deformed shadows on the walls move as if they were surrounded by demons. Other than that, everything looked completely normal, or at least as normal as one can get in an old abandoned house with broken windows and a thunderstorm outside.

Dash and Kwan were sitting with their backs against the wall, still dripping water on the floor. Sam was sitting on her own sleeping bag and Tucker again had his laptop in front of him, his face looking almost pale in the glow from the screen. They were all looking at Danny, as if he somehow had the answer to all the strangeness going on.

"I always knew you were a freak," Dash said suddenly, looking darkly at the figure sitting slumped on his sleeping bag, his head hanging, his face obscured by his hair.

Danny cringed, because he knew Dash was right and because the remark had caused the whispering voice, which had been quiet for a while, to start again.

"_Freak... freak... freak..."_

He tried to ignore the voice. He didn't know what to do about it, he didn't want to admit to his friends he heard it, not with Dash and Kwan present. And he certainly didn't want to tell them what had happened in the hallway earlier.

He had been looking at his tormentors, sprawled on the floor, defenseless for the moment and he had been acutely aware of the power he held. He could destroy them in an instant and he had started counting the ways he could do just that, freezing them to death, or burning them with his new found fire power, lift them in the air and dropping them from high altitude, turn them intangible and bury them under ground so that they would choke, fry them with an ecto blast...

Then he had caught Dash staring at him fearfully and he had realized that his thoughts showed on his face somehow. He had pushed it all away, but it had left a bad taste in his mouth.

"_Big bully is out to get you..."_

Danny sighed. Of course Dash was out to get him, he always was. Danny was his favorite punching bag and every time something went wrong in Dash's life he took it out on him and there was nothing he could do about it but run.

"_...run and hide run and hide run and hide run and hide..."_

"Stop it," he hissed, clenching his fists.

He did not want to think about what had happened when the door had opened, letting the wind and hail storm through the house, knocking everybody down but him. He had felt the power of it streaming past him, the rain and hail stinging his skin, but somehow not _touching_ him. And it had stopped when he asked it to, told it to. There was something here that responded to him, something only he could sense, hear, taste even. And still his ghost sense didn't go off.

The others were quietly chatting now, Tucker citing from the research he had done, more facts about the house, families that lived here, construction that had been done to the house and then something that really caught their attention.

"Wow," Tucker said, "Listen to this. This is from an old newspaper article from the seventies, but it was online because somebody used it as a reference in an article: _Police are still searching for fifty year old Agnes Flieke, the nanny from the Jarvis family who is responsible for the death of ten month old Anthony Jarvis. Young Anthony was found slain in his cot in the Jarvis home on Tulla Drive, otherwise known as 'Bone House'."_

Tucker's voice faltered at that.

"I.. I saw that," he said, "Upstairs...in his room... I went in there and... then I _saw_."

"What do you mean you saw," Dash said impatiently, "That happened like what, thirty years ago. How can you see something that happened thirty years ago."

He had taken ownership of Sam's backpack and was currently rummaging through it, trying to find something to eat and ignoring her scowl. He hadn't thought of bringing anything with him, since he had expected them to come running right out. At that moment he regretted that decision, in fact, he regretted ever thinking of setting up Fentoad and his friends. But most of all he wanted to punch his cousin.

"Give me that."

The backpack was yanked from his hands and Sam stuck her hand in it, feeling around for a moment and then got out two apples. She tossed them to Dash and Kwan who, being football players, caught them instinctively. She turned to Tucker.

"There's something really wrong with this house. What did you see?"

Tucker shook his head, trying, but not really wanting, to remember what he had experienced when he was in that room upstairs.

"I went in.. I think... and it was really strange, because the room looked new and there was this cot in the corner with a blanket and there was music. And then I saw blood dripping out of the cot and... that's all I remember."

Tucker looked badly shaken and Danny stood up.

"I'd better take a look then," he announced and left the room.

Sam and Tucker looked at each other, as if silently tossing a coin and then Tucker sighed, grabbed his backpack and pulled out a thermos. Clasping it tightly in his hands, he got up and hurried after Danny.

"Wait a minute," Dash said, "What are they doing? Are they mad? The house is haunted, we should stay together!"

It was as close an admission to his fear as he was going to get and Sam grinned wickedly at him.

"There's probably a ghost at work here. They're gonna try and catch it, what else?"

"What else," Dash echoed, staring at her.

She couldn't really be serious, could she? Fentina hunting a ghost? With a soup thermos? He tried to picture the boy bashing in the head of a ghost with the stupid soup thermos and the image was so ridiculous he started to laugh. Kwan, who had remained silent all that time, stared at him.

"See," he said, "They _did_ bring ghost weapons."

* * *

Tucker hurried after Danny, who had already climbed the stairs and was now standing on the landing, his hands in his sides, looking up and down the hallway. Tucker ran up the stairs after him, wheezing when he reached the top of the stairway. 

"Geez Tucker, you should work out more," Danny grinned at him.

Tucker scowled at him.

"I still pass the annual test Mrs. Tetslaff has us do. Unlike somebody else here in this house whose name starts with a 'D'."

"I think Dash passed the test, Tucker."

Tucker rolled his eyes.

"Hey," Danny said, "I failed that test on purpose, alright. Don't want to make people suspicious."

"Yeah right, keep telling yourself that."

Danny was about to retort when a blue mist came out of his mouth and a quiet chill settled over the hallway, a presence of something creeping up to them, giving them goosebumps. Something was there, something cold, giving them a feeling of being watched, something that existed only just outside their view and could only be seen from the corners of their eyes. Tucker tensed, clutching the thermos tightly as he stood back to back with Danny, staring intently into 'his' part of the hallway that seemed to shimmer in front of him.

"Just an illusion," he thought illogically, as Danny had said the same earlier downstairs in the living room. And then he saw it.

"Danny," he whispered urgently, elbowing his friend.

Danny turned around and there she was. She had materialized suddenly , about ten feet away from him and he could still see the hallway and the doors behind her, through her, as if she had no real substance. It was a little girl in a blue dress, standing in the middle of the hallway, smiling shyly at them. Her blond hair was curly, with blue ribbons in it that matched her dress. She looked like a little angel.

Two white rings appeared around Danny's waist, transforming him into his ghostly alter ego and Tucker shivered slightly as the rings touched his arm briefly. He knew it wouldn't do any harm, but the tingling coldness going through him sent shivers up his spine. He started when Danny's hand suddenly grasped his shoulder.

"T-Tucker... u-use the thermos... s-suck it in!"

Danny's hand dug deeper into his shoulder, his cold hand digging into his skin and Tucker winced at the force of it. He was suddenly very unnerved by his ghostly friend and he wished for a moment Danny would keep his distance. Instantly he berated himself for that thought, Danny was his best friend, they shared everything and if Danny needed to hold on to him he could. It didn't make him any happier though.

Tucker stared at the little girl in surprise. She didn't seem very threatening, blinking her eyes at them, curling her hair with her finger. Danny didn't seem to think so.

"_Tucker_!" he hissed and then he grabbed the thermos from Tucker's hands, pointed it at the ghost and pressed the button to activate it.

The girl was gone.

In the blink of a eye, the hallway was empty and Danny lowered the thermos, silently cursing Tucker's lack of response before. The hallway was back to normal now, the sudden black aura he had seen around the little girl gone, leaving the ordinary darkness of the twilight settling in every corner of the house. He turned to Tucker.

"Why didn't you catch her?"

Tucker looked at him in surprise, a little taken aback by Danny's angry tone of voice.

"It was just a little girl. What harm..."

"Didn't you see it?"

"See what? It was _just_ _a little girl_!"

Danny took a deep breath. There had been far more to the ghost than just the form that had been standing in the hallway. It had seemed connected somehow, with strings attached to it, cords that came from the walls, the ceiling, the floor. It's eyes had looked like endless black pits and it had been the eyes that had Danny almost running. Not because they were scary, but because he had felt _drawn_ to them, like he had wanted to lose himself into their darkness.

"That wasn't just a little girl, Tuck. Didn't you see it? She was a puppet, somebody or something was playing her, controlling her with those strings."

"I didn't see any strings."

Lightning lit the hallway for a moment and the two friends looked at each other, the pale light eerily reflecting on Danny's pale face and making Tucker's eyes glitter. Without a word, Danny floated away from him, in the direction Tucker had come from when he descended the stairs leading to the attic with Sam earlier.

"Which room?" he asked curtly.

Tucker pointed silently at the door in front of Danny, who proceeded to float through it, going intangible just before he touched it. Or that was what he intended, instead he bounced back from it, hitting his head in the process and earning him a painful bump on his head.

"Ow."

Rubbing his head, he stared at the door swinging open from his bumping into it, revealing the nursery Tucker had been in. The cot Tucker had described was standing in the corner, every now and then lit by the flashes coming from outside, accompanied by an almost continues rumbling from the thunder.

"Losing your touch?"

Tucker had meant to ease the tension a little, so he was totally unprepared for Danny's furious look.

"It wasn't _funny_!"

Danny clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to calm himself. He felt nervous and jittery, the slightest noise made him jump and Tucker's impromptu remark did nothing to help that either. The room seemed normal enough though, except for the fact that he couldn't phase through the door.

He let himself drift inside the room and touched the wall, willing his hand intangible. It felt like a solid wall and he pressed a little harder, while Tucker stood next to him, looking on in a mild surprise.

"Hey," he said, stating the obvious, "You can't phase through the wall!"

"Oh, you _noticed_."

He pressed a little harder and then he felt it. A movement under his fingers, a shifting of something, sending a stinging feeling though his nerves and suddenly he could _feel_. His eyes widened in surprise as he felt the house, it's rooms, the rotting woodwork, the leaky roof, the intruders in the living room pressing on the floor, lighting their dangerous candles.

"_...Fire..."_

The voice was much clearer now, coming from the wall, the house itself and he clearly felt it's aversion to the little flames from the candles. He felt the mice in the cellar and the kitchen, their tiny paws scurrying behind the walls and in the kitchen cabinets, tickling. The bugs in the curtains, hundreds, thousands of them, crawling, multiplying, hiding from sight. The mold growing on the beams in the attic, weakening them, making him feel like he was slowly rotting away, that it was just a matter of time before he would collapse onto himself.

He was...everywhere.

Something was touching him, not house him, but body him and he struggled to identify the annoyance. Then his hand was yanked away from the wall and he lost contact with the house, and the feeling of belonging was gone.

He swirled and backhanded Tucker across the room, an angry snarl on his face, his eyes glowing menacingly. Tucker backed away frantically, stumbling, shouting "Danny, stop, whaddayadoing, it's me!"

His name. His name was Danny. He stopped in mid air, his hands already glowing green and tilted his head a little to think about it. Then he looked at the intruder, standing with his back against the wall, gasping for air, his eyes huge in fear.

"Tucker."

The sound of his own voice startled him, it sounded like a low growl instead of his normal light voice and he shivered suddenly. Vaguely he realized he needed to do something, he needed to change back and without hesitating he let the two white rings appear, transforming him back to his human form and with a small thunk he landed on the floor.

"Tucker, I'm sorry!"

Danny approached him and Tucker cringed, trying to press himself even further into the wall, until he looked into his friends worried blue eyes. He sighed in relief, letting out the breath that he had been holding and tentatively stepped away from the wall.

"What happened?" he asked shakily, rubbing his left cheek where Danny had hit him.

Danny shook his head, still unsure.

"I don't know. I can't phase through the wall, there's something there and I... I connected to it for a moment. It was... creepy."

Tucker had the feeling he had wanted to say something else than creepy. By the look on Danny's face he hadn't minded touching that something, whatever it was, at all. Danny looked at the floor, then up again to his friend, seemingly unsure of what to say or do.

"I think... we're done here," he said, finally.

Tucker just nodded, picked up the thermos that had fallen on the ground during their little skirmish and quickly stepped through the door, glad to leave the room behind him.

"Tucker."

He turned to look at his friend still standing in the middle of the room, a pained expression on his face.

"I really am sorry."

Tucker sighed, sagging his shoulders a little while pushing the nagging feeling away that he should be very wary of Danny in this house.

"It's alright," he said, "Just... just watch yourself. Let's get out of here as soon as the storm blows over, OK?"

He turned and walked to the stairs, totally missing the glint of steel that appeared momentarily in Danny's eyes.

* * *

Dash finished the apple and threw the core carelessly behind him. It bounced off the wall and rolled into the fireplace, collecting dust and ashes on it. Then, since Fentonia and his geeky friend had left, he grabbed the edge of the his sleeping bag and pulled it towards him. He was going to make sure he wouldn't be uncomfortable, and if the loser had problems with that he could try and take it back. Dash very badly wanted to make sure everybody knew just who was on top of the food chain here. 

"Hey!" the goth freak said angrily and Dash glared at her, daring her to say something, which of course she did.

"You're a real hero, aren't you, picking on people that are smaller than you," she snapped, "You're just a coward though. You wouldn't dare take Danny on your own, you need Kwan to hold your hand for that."

Dash tried to suppress his anger as he looked at the small girl sitting across from him on her own sleeping bag, her face glowing in the light of the candles. He leaned forward a bit to emphasize the fact that he was two heads taller than she was and saw to his satisfaction that she leaned back somewhat.

"You'd better watch it, witch. I don't usually hit girls, but I'm not sure you qualify. Or maybe I'll just give your boyfriend a good pounding. So shut up."

"He's _not_ my boyfriend."

A thought hit Dash and his eyes widened. Kwan nudged him, as if trying to tell him to be quiet but Dash wouldn't just let this go.

"So the techno geek is then? Or maybe you do it with both of them?"

An angry growl came from the direction of the door and before Dash knew it, Danny was on top of him, landing his fists into his head and stomach with surprising force, knocking him over. He wasn't so easily beaten though, and even though Danny had had the element of surprise, Dash was still a lot stronger.

With some difficulty, and not before the enraged boy had landed a few more painful punches, he grabbed hold of him, pushed himself and his attacker up and hurled him across the room, knocking him against the wall. Before Danny could recover Dash jumped towards him and landed a powerful punch into his stomach, then grabbed him by the front of his shirt before he could topple over and slammed his head against the wall again.

The boy was coughing and wheezing and gasping for air as Dash pinned him against the wall, his eyes slightly unfocused. Tucker still stood in the doorway, gaping at the two adversaries, his mind trying to catch up on what had happened. Kwan was still sitting in the same position, his back against the wall, a frown on his face. It happened so fast neither of them had moved.

Dash was about to punch Danny again when he felt a tug at his arm and he looked sidewards to see who was trying to get his attention. He looked straight into the blazing eyes of Sam Manson.

"Geez. You're pretty when you're angry," he quipped, grinning.

This caused another fit of rage inside Fentonia, Dash could tell because the boy started struggling again.

"Let go, Dash," Sam said, a little more calmly, "We all know you can beat him up. Let's just... calm down and try to get through the night here together without molesting each other, alright?"

The air had gone cold around them, Dash noticed, causing goose bumps on his arms and he shivered a little when he remembered ghosts could cause a temperature drop. The goth seemed nervous too, her eyes skittering across the room as if she expected something to appear any moment. He stepped back and let go of Danny, patting his torn t-shirt. Then he frowned, remembering why he had pinned the boy against the wall in the first place.

"Hey, _he_ attacked _me_!"

Sam rushed to Danny's aid when he threatened to topple over. She started speaking to the boy in a soft tone and Dash couldn't hear what she was saying to him. He moved back to his sleeping bag and lowered himself on it again, wincing slightly from the painful spots on his body. For such a wimp Fenton had a pretty strong punch.

He looked at the three friends, standing closely together, the black boy and the girl seemingly trying to talk some sense into Danny, whose head was hanging. At one moment he looked up though and snarled at Dash, but the girl grabbed him and turned him around, an angry look on her face. Dash watched in fascination as she gave him a dressing down his mother would have been proud of. He felt distinctly grateful he wasn't the target of her wrath.

Finally they returned to the small circle of candles, Tucker once again taking place on his own sleeping bag behind his laptop, the goth and the freak dropping down on hers. To Dash's satisfaction, he saw a large bruise forming on the left side of his face, until he remembered the boy had hit him pretty hard too and it could well be that he looked about the same. He would have some explaining to do to his friends tomorrow, he thought, it wouldn't do to admit that Fentina had managed to land his fists on him that way.

He glanced sidewards at his friend and teammate and found him looking back at him, his face carefully expressionless, his eyes uncertain. Kwan was a follower, not a leader and Dash knew that he would go with whatever Dash told him had happened.

"So," Kwan said, "When do you think we can get out of here?"

Dash glanced a the windows, where the rain still washed down, a gust of wind causing it to clatter every now and then. The lightning seemed to lessen somewhat though, the thunder that followed it farther away.

"Dunno," Dash answered as he turned to see the three original occupants of the house look at him uncomfortably, the techno geek nervously clicking the mouse of his computer, the love birds sitting closely together. There was a definite rift in the room, the little group of five split in two, the boundary set by the candles in the middle that had started leaking on the floor.

"Maybe we should try to get some sleep," the goth said, "I'm kinda tired."

Her loser friend shrugged, obviously still out of sorts from his outburst earlier, but he allowed her to lean on him, causing a knowing smile on the techno geek's face. Dash wondered for a moment what was going on with the three of them, then caught himself. That couldn't possibly interest him.

"No way I'm gonna sleep," Kwan said, shifting somewhat from the place he was sitting and wrapping his arms around his knees, "This place gives me the creeps. As soon as the storm lets up we're outta here, right Dash?"

"Sure we are," Dash smirked, grinning at Fenturd sitting across from him, "We all are, aren't we, Fentina?"

The boy didn't answer and scowled at him instead. Dash felt himself relax somewhat. The house was creepy, yes, but nothing serious had happened and he was going to win the bet. He eased himself down on the sleeping bag, making himself comfortable and staring into the tiny flames of the candles. He blinked a couple of times, suddenly feeling very tired and he closed his eyes for a moment.

"No way I'm gonna sleep," Kwan muttered beside him.


	5. Madness

A/N: You're all on the right track... well, I wasn't really trying to hide anything. Anyway, this chapter should enlighten you. I hope I'll be able to update next week, because I haven't written a single word for chapter 6 yet...

* * *

**THE HOUSE  
**

**Chapter 5: Madness**

* * *

He was mumbling to himself in a monotone voice, an undefinable stream of words that held meaning only to him. The darkness outside was reflected in his mind, or what was left of it. To get rid of the darkness, that was all he wanted at that point and with a smile on his face he lit the match, held it close to his face for a moment and then dropped it on the pile of furniture drenched in oil. A huge flame erupted, instantly lighting the room in an orange glow, making his dark eyes shine unnaturally. 

The fire spread quickly. He had walked around with his oil can for a while, walking circles through the kitchen and the dining room, the enormous hallway that could act as a ballroom, the library and taking special care to drench the huge staircase. The house, which had been in his family for generations, groaned in alarm when the woodwork caught fire, the flames suddenly spreading on the ceiling, making it look like he was in a box made of fire. He staggered backwards towards the door, but he couldn't take his eyes of the inferno that had been his living room.

A loud crash behind him made him swirl, then stagger, he had to grab the door frame to steady himself. The stairs in the hallway were on fire now too, high flames rose up all the way to the roof of the house, lighting the stained glass windows on top of the stairs. It must be quite a sight from the outside, he thought, the light of the fire shining through the beautifully crafted colored glass.

He came to his senses somewhat, his mind still had some notion of self-preservation left and started urging him to make a run for it, to leave, the front door would probably open easily now. The heat behind him pushed him out of the living room, made him run to the door and grab it's handle.

The handle was hot however and burned his hand, scorching his skin, making his hand cramp in pain. He was screaming now as the fire closed in on him and again he grabbed the handle, ignored the burning pain and pulled the door open, letting in a fresh burst of air to feed the flames.

He ran out and kept running until he reached the gate of his estate, his beautiful garden with the immaculately kept lawn and the flowers his wife had planted.

"Ha!" he yelled at the house, "You didn't think of that, did you! Burn! Burn!"

He started laughing hysterically.

On the first floor, above the dining room that was now also burning, although not as intensely as the living room, a window opened. A thin figure in a night gown leaned out, screaming, and he stopped laughing instantly. He had forgotten about her, how could he have forgotten about her? Suddenly more faces sprang to mind, the servants sleeping in their little rooms in the attic, the stable hands sleeping above the garage...

"Eliza!" he yelled, "No!"

He started running towards the house again, his legs feeling like rubber, terror washing over him as he closed in on the house. The house was ablaze now, the flames thundering, shrieking in his ears, screaming out it's pain from the inferno. It seemed to take forever to get there, like he was in a dream, a nightmare, and while he was running he could see her climbing out of the window, ready to jump.

"Wait!" he yelled at her, "Wait! I'll catch you!"

She couldn't hear him over the thundering noise of the fire, she didn't see him because of her watering eyes. She sat on the windowsill, hesitating for a moment and he had hope then, hope she could jump out and he could catch her. And then it happened.

A huge flame erupted from behind her, engulfing her, burning her as she sat there in the window, holding on to the edge, burning her into place forever. He thought she would fall after that, but she didn't, her hands were cramped in place, her face turning black, the look of terror forever there on her carbonized face.

He screamed.

"Kwan...Kwan! Wake up man, what's the matter with you!"

He stopped screaming and stared into his best friend's face from up close, wearing not a worried, but more an annoyed expression on his face. For a moment, he didn't know where he was, he was so sure that the house burnt down, that the place he was now in no longer existed, and yet here he was, sitting in the corner of the living room and leaning against the wall.

Sleep. He had fallen asleep. Kwan shuddered and wiped the sweat from his brow and then looked around the room. Dash had fallen back on the floor, now inside Danny's sleeping bag, looking sleepy. Tucker had fallen asleep too, lying on top of his sleeping bag with his arms around his laptop, hugging it tightly as if it were a teddy bear. If he hadn't been so scared, Kwan would have laughed.

Sam and Danny were huddled together on top of her sleeping bag. He couldn't see her face as it was buried into his shoulder, but she seemed asleep also. Danny however was looking at him, his face expressionless, his eyes unfocused as if he wasn't really there. Kwan shuddered, thinking back at the many times he had called the boy a freak, wondering if there was actually some truth in that accusation.

Dash was already asleep again, he saw. He swallowed and looked at the empty soda cans littering the floor, realizing he hadn't had anything to drink since that afternoon. With some difficulty he got up and then hesitated, first looking at the door and then back at the sleeping forms of his companions. They really should stay together. Then again, he was thirsty. Surely there was some water in the house somewhere?

* * *

Sam worked her way through the trees of the forest, scratching her arms and face, panting from the exertion. It was a nightmarish environment, the undergrowth trying to grab her, hold her in place, twisting itself around her ankles in an attempt to stop her. 

"Dreaming," she thought, "I'm dreaming..."

Knowing that didn't change anything though, and she didn't stop to think about it. She was sure that if she stopped, she would never get away from this place ever again, so she kept going. Faintly, in the back of her mind, an alarm bell was going off, telling her that it was just a dream, that she should take control, that she could leave this place with just one thought.

"This dream is different," she said out loud and was startled by her own voice.

It wasn't her voice at all, it sounded old and hoarse and she almost stumbled in surprise. Quickly she regained her balance, but she felt the sudden movement in her joints, sending a stabbing pain from her knees.

"I'm too old for this," she thought miserably.

Her old, withered hands held up her long skirt as she kept struggling, her breath wheezing, struggling for air. The pendant around her neck bounced against her chest and she reached out to grab it, to hold it still, to let it guide her. She knew exactly where she was going, she had been searching for the spot for years and she was determined to reach it.

"Even it it kills me," she thought, silently chuckling at the irony of that.

A root of a tree caught her unaware and she fell forward, exerting a small cry as she landed on the ground of the clearing, pushing out all the air from her lungs. She lay there a while, trying to catch her breath, vaguely amazed at the lack of undergrowth at that particular spot. And that was when she realized she had reached her destination.

Slowly she pushed herself up, her hands digging into the freshly disturbed earth, wincing from the pain of her fresh collection of bruises on her skinny legs and arms. It didn't matter though, not anymore. She brushed her long gray hair out of her face, leaving a long black smear across her forehead and looked around.

It was larger than she thought it would be, and for a moment she wondered just how many were buried here. A mist hung over the clearing and she could only just make out the other side, the thick undergrowth and the trees of the forest beginning abruptly. Her breath came out in short gasps, producing short bursts of steam and she hugged herself to try and ward of the ominous feeling that was creeping up to her from the ground.

It was then that she noticed she was standing on a freshly dug grave and with a small cry she jumped backwards, her heart bouncing in her chest. Now she could easily see the fresh horse tracks and the tracks of the wheels of some cart imprinted in the dirt, leading off to the other side of the clearing. There must be some sort of track there, unknown to her or anybody else in town. She was sure no one ever came here, no one except the murderer, the place was too obviously a grave yard.

Grave yard... slowly she looked around her at the ground, trying to look through it, under the soft grass that looked almost gray in the twilight. Right in front of her the earth was clearly disturbed, as if somebody had dug a hole there. To her right there was a place where no grass was growing, a little further there vegetation was there, but not in abundance. Graves. If she remembered correctly she was looking at the graves of Irina Petrova, Julie Anderson and Maria McCafferty, in that order. Three girls not yet seventeen years old, gone missing this past year, Maria being the latest with only three weeks ago.

Again, out of habit, her hand went to the pendant around her neck, her treasure, the only thing that connected her to her daughter. She felt the soft strands of red hair, bound together and set in silver. She would have preferred gold but that had been just too expensive. She must be around here somewhere too.

Her eyes watered and for a while all she could do was weep, the pain and the sorrow from the past ten years washing over her. Ten years of searching, trying to find out what had happened to her precious girl, ten years in which her hair had turned from a fiery red into a dull gray. Ten years of keeping her despair, her insanity at bay, the darkness in her mind that sometimes threatened to overwhelm her, making her want to lash out randomly in her frustration. Ten years of studying books which needed to be hidden from other people, especially the vicar, lest she be shunned by them, or worse...

Drawing a deep breath, she pulled herself together at last, not bothering to wipe the tears from her face. She didn't need the books now, she had memorized them word for word. Quickly she stepped away from the graves to a place where the ground was rocky and dusty, picking up a branch of a tree on the way. She bend over and groaning from the pain in her back, she drew a large pentagram on the ground.

The sparse light was just enough for her to see by and she felt the air grow colder, either from the dusk falling over the place or something more sinister. Shivering, canting softly, she stepped into the middle of the pentagram and took off her pendant. This was it. She would call forth her daughter, ask her what had happened to her, who had done this to her. She would know the murderer. It would end tonight.

Slowly, in a low voice she started the incantation she memorized over and over again, holding out the pendant with her daughter's hair, it's cord wrapped around her hand. She tried to calm her breathing as she did that, calm her senses, thinking only of the spirits that were undoubtedly here. She had to believe that.

Nothing seemed to happen at first, other than that the air around her grew even colder and an odd quiet settled in the forest around her, a quiet that should have alarmed her. Somewhere in her mind something tried to separate from her, tried to tell her this was only a dream, it had to end now or it'd be the end of her but she didn't listen. She felt the power in her grow as she drew energy from everything around her, the grass, the trees, the bushes.

The ground began to glow an eerie green and she kept canting, making sure she got the words exactly right every time. She could make out shapes now, spots in the grass that were a brighter green than the rest of the ground, pulsating, emitting a cold energy. They were all over the clearing and for a moment her voice faltered when she realized what those spots represented.

There were so many of them...

As the words caught in her throat and her fear peaked to a maximum, figures started to emerge, floating above their spot, transparent, green figures, hardly discernible. She was completely surrounded by them, those wavering images of the girls that were buried here. She had expected there to be quite a few there, over the years girls had gone missing in the small town of Amity Park, but not all of them could be contributed to the serial killer. But her baffled mind refused to acknowledge that there seemed to be more than fifty floating ghosts here.

She stood still, her mind not functioning now that the moment was there and she needed to do something. And then the moment passed. Suddenly the ghosts let out a collective shriek, a unearthly cry of misery and then they started to fade away. Crying with disappointment she watched all the figures dissipate, all but one. A dark figure was approaching her, a man, tall, with a high hat on his graying hair, swinging his cane as if he was taking a stroll. As he came closer, she recognized him.

"Slobodan," she breathed, surprised by the sound of fear in her voice.

"Laura," he acknowledged her.

The smile on his face seemed totally misplaced. He walked closer to her and stopped about three feet away. Behind him she saw more people approaching, bearing torches, a silent mob that scared her even more than the mayor's eerie smile.

"I've been hearing things about you," he said quietly, "Strange sounds come from your cabin. Incantations, they say, cursing people. Cows no longer giving milk. Chicken no longer laying eggs. And your neighbor suddenly died. Do you know what that means, Laura?"

Her mouth was dry. She knew what he was accusing her of. Denying it wouldn't do any good, once people believed you were a witch, you were doomed. Her only chance would be to run, run like hell, get away from them as fast as possible. She thought she had a chance, the people with the torches were still on the other side of the clearing and Slobodan needed his cane...

With a shriek, she turned around and ran in the direction she had come from, as fast as her old joints could take her. She heard him behind her and she cried out again in distress when he grabbed her, made her trip, pressed her to the ground. Then suddenly there were more people, people with menacing faces, looking at her angrily and they yanked her upright. Someone tugged her hands behind her back and tied them together with a piece of rope that dug into her skin. She cried in pain and looked at the faces of the people she knew, or thought she knew, but were now strangers to her.

"Sam."

Surprised, she looked aside, wondering who was calling her and there he was next to her, hovering and strangely transparent, with shocking white hair and brilliant green eyes. She looked at him, mesmerized, feeling that she should know him somehow. The angry shouting of the crowd seemed far away now, although she could still see their faces, their eyes gleaming in the flickering light of the torches. The ghost was there with them, among them and they seemed to be moving through him as of he wasn't there, as if they didn't see him.

"Hush," he said, "It's just a dream."

* * *

Danny was staring idly at the candles, of which now only two were still burning, the others having been blown out by the gusts of wind that came through the front windows every now and then. Next to the candles was Tucker's flashlight, switched off to save the batteries. If the remaining candles were to blow out too, at least they would have some light. The darkness outside was complete, there were no streetlights this far out of Amity Park and even if there had been any, the light would not have reached the house through the trees. He thought it must be close to midnight. 

Nobody was talking now, Tucker and Dash having drifted off and even Kwan was nodding as he sat in his uncomfortable position with his back against the wall. He chuckled lightly when he caught sight of Tucker hugging his laptop and for a moment he contemplated getting out his phone to take a picture. It couldn't hurt to add a new item to his blackmail collection, Tucker had way to much of him and Sam.

However he couldn't move, not without waking Sam, who was huddled against him, her head on his shoulder, pinning him down. She seemed to be sleeping and he felt her warm body pressed against him. He wondered if she would be mad if she woke up like that, after all she had yelled at him for attacking Dash on her behalf, saying she was perfectly capable of handling the obnoxious jock on her own and if she needed a cavalier she'd let him know.

Vaguely he heard Kwan cry out suddenly, as if he had awakened from a disturbing dream and he looked at the boy without really seeing him. The house seemed to give of a smug aura somehow, the satisfaction was hanging in the air and he shifted carefully, to make sure he was laying on the sleeping bag without touching the floor. He'd be fine as long as he didn't touch anything, and as soon as the rain let up they'd be out of there, even thought that meant losing the bet.

"_...loser..."_

Shut up," he muttered automatically, unconvincingly.

He was startled out of his daze by a small cry from Sam, who suddenly clasped his chest and he winced when she dug her nails in. He quickly grabbed her hand and pried it away from him, but she continued to shudder.

"Sam," he muttered softly, trying not to wake the others, "Sam, wake up. Hush. It's just a dream."

She didn't wake up, but she seemed to relax when she heard his voice so he let her sleep.

"_...Pretty..."_

"Yeah..."

He couldn't sleep, not with that whispering voice in his head, taunting him, making suggestions and every now and then actually supporting him. Although the whispering made it hard to tell for sure, he thought it was a female voice. It was in the way she talked, laughed, comforted him. His face hurt where Dash had hit him and he looked angrily at the sleeping form in his sleeping bag.

"_...Asleep... helpless... won't hit back now..."_

"Shut up."

He tore his eyes away from the blond jock and looked down at the dark flurry of hair on his left shoulder. She felt warm against him and it felt strangely comforting having her lay there, sleeping peacefully, her arms wrapped around his chest. He wasn't sure about the meaning of it all, but decided to take it at face value and just accept the fact that she was sleeping in his arms and that he was fine with that.

He closed his eyes. The rain was still washing down the windows but the thunderstorm had passed them by, the only thing left now was a faint rumbling in the distance. His breathing slowed, his head rolled sidewards a little until it was resting against Sam's head and this time he drifted off.

* * *

She was two people. She was Sam, ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, goth, sixteen years old school girl, ghost hunter. And she was Laura, old, angry, hurt, strapped to a pole on a pile of wood in the middle of the clearing in the forest. Sam could feel the woman's pain, both physical and mental, but somehow it didn't touch her like it had before. She was aware of who she was. 

"It's just a dream," Danny had said.

"If this is a dream," she muttered back to him, although she knew he was already gone, "Then I'd better wake up soon."

It didn't happen. What did happen was that Slobodan Drakovitch, the mayor of Amity Park, approached her, holding a torch. The flames reflected on his face, giving him an almost devilish look. Absentmindedly Sam noticed the old fashioned high hat and the whiskers that told her she was looking at someone from long ago. 'The ghost of Christmas past', she thought and she almost laughed.

Laura didn't think it was funny at all. She spat at him, but he didn't flinch. He was about to speak to her when someone stepped forward from the crowd, a man with a pale face and dark eyes, eyes that locked on to Laura's, held her captive and in that moment she could look straight into his soul.

She saw an infinite darkness there, madness, a hunger for power and hurt and pain. It was like looking into the devil's eyes and suddenly she was sure: _this was the murderer._ He was also Goran Drakovitch, Slobodan's younger brother. And she understood.

Goran joined his brother and stood next to him, smiling lightly, madness close to the surface. Slobodan seemed annoyed at him being there and whispered something, but the man didn't seem to hear him. Instead, he kept staring at Laura/Sam, licking his lips in anticipation of what was about to happen. Laura felt disgusted by him, sickened and although Sam wanted to close her eyes and turn her head away, Laura kept them open and stared right back at him, letting him feel her rage.

"Murderer," she said to him in a low voice, putting in all the power she possessed.

It wasn't much but it was enough; he flinched and looked away. Slobodan looked at his brother and then back at Laura.

"You understand," he said, "I cannot let my brother be on trial for this. It would ruin me."

Laura/Sam was speechless. The man had protected his brother, let him go on with his killing, his murdering innocent girls for over a decade. And she was going to take the fall for it.

"How... how could you," she finally whispered, "How could you let him do this?"

Slobodan seemed to hesitate and looked behind him at the crowd, who now started to get restless. They had moved closer, closing ranks, now completely surrounding the stake. A little closer and they'd be able to hear what they were saying.

"My brother has... urges," he said, as if it were a normal thing, "He is hard to control. But be assured my dear, from now on we will take more drastic measures to ensure he cannot further endanger my name and position in this town."

Sam felt the rage build inside Laura, a madness that had lurked in her mind for ten years, finally snapping out, destroying what sanity she had left. Desperately, Sam pushed her away, not wanting to be consumed by the wave of hatred that washed over the old woman.

"Position," she hissed, ignoring the fact that Slobodan had lowered his torch and that the pile of wood she was standing on was now on fire, "Name! You'll pay for this, Slobo! You'll _pay_ for this!"

The fire spread quickly, smoke got in her eyes which started to water, flames started to lick her feet, but she didn't scream. Instead, she looked at the mayor, the man she had looked up to for so long, the man who had comforted her when her daughter had gone missing. The man who had known all along what had happened to her.

"I curse you, Slobodan Drakovitch!" she screamed, "I'll haunt you forever! And your children! And your children's children! I'll make your life a living hell! "

Then she started to scream, but Sam was no longer connected to her, instead strangely floating next to her, untouched by the flames which consumed Laura as she kept screaming her curses even when she burned and her face turned black.

Sam gasped in surprise when she finally managed to open her eyes, and the gray wallpaper with the faded print slowly came into focus. For a moment it was like she could still see the fire projected on the wall, but the image faded away into the small flame of the single candle that was still burning. Then she realized she still heard the screaming and she pushed herself upright, her heart pounding. The scream from her dream seemed to echo through the house and she wasn't the only one to hear it. Next to her Tucker was pushing himself up, a frightened expression on his face and Dash was already climbing to his feet, looking terrified.

"Where's Kwan?" he asked with a squeak.

Sam started shivering as the screaming suddenly stopped, leaving an ominous silence.

"Better yet," Tucker said, his teeth clattering, "Where's Danny?"

* * *

_Can't have a story without a cliffie now can we...:)  
_


	6. Nightmare

A/N: I stayed up until 2 in the morning on Monday to finish the chapter, so you'd better appreciate this...:) Of course, 2 AM _is _the best time to write stuff like this. Took me this long to post it, because I added an extra pass to my proofreading to add commas. Yes, add. Dozens of them. I hope it's better now.

* * *

**THE HOUSE**

**Chapter 6: Nightmare**

* * *

The quiet surprised him, the place seemed frozen, empty, _not there_. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, facing the grand staircase, light shining through the stained glass windows above it, producing a colorful pattern on the stairs and on the floor. Tiny dust particles were floating in the air, adding to the impression of stillness in the house. 

Light.

Danny blinked once, twice, and stared at the brightly lit hallway, which actually looked more like a ballroom, now that he thought about it. It hadn't been this big, had it? And had he really slept that long? Another thought struck him: how did he get here in the first place?

He took a tentative step and the sound echoed through the empty hallway, sounding obscenely loud in the oppressive silence. He stopped immediately, his heart pounding, feeling like he had disturbed something. The house suddenly seemed alive, as if his one footstep had awakened something and he could feel a slight hum coming from it.

"Come on," he thought, "Don't be an idiot, it's just a..._dream_?"

He looked around again, the tiled floor, the dark beams supporting the staircase, the many doors leading God knows where. Above him was an enormous chandelier with candles in it, now extinct. It all looked awfully real.

"When do you _know_ you're dreaming?" he wondered.

Suddenly, laughter exploded in the hallway and Danny jumped from shock. He turned around and saw two boys running in from one of the doors to his right, chasing each other. They were both oddly dressed, wearing white laced shirts and dark dress pants. The smaller of the two boys ran past Danny without looking at him, racing up the stairs, stopping when he was almost at the top. The taller of the two, a boy looking about Danny's age, stopped beside him, looking up at what seemed to be his brother by the looks of it.

"He's going to fall, you know," he said matter-of-factly.

"What!"

Danny stared at him in disbelieve, and then quickly looked up at the small boy again, who was climbing on top of the banister, ready to slide down. He held on awkwardly and grinned at the boys downstairs.

"But," Danny began, but it was already too late. With a sick feeling he watched as the boy suddenly lost his grip, slid down a few feet and then dropped on the ground with a thud and a snapping sound. The boy next to Danny looked at him, unconcerned, then strolled over. Danny followed him, shocked to the bone that he had just witnessed a... _murder_? He stopped about three feet away from the body of the small boy, who was still laying at the bottom of the stairs, motionless. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling and he had a surprised expression on his face.

The other boy bend over and shook the body, and the little boy's head rolled back and forth in a very unnatural angle. Danny felt sick.

"H-how...?" he stuttered.

The older boy smiled at him and stood up.

"Danny, right?" he asked, "I'm Jake. And that little squirt there," he pointed at the small dead body on the floor, "Is, I mean, _was_, Simon. Obnoxious little beast. Good riddance I say."

"B-but..."

"How? Easy. Stupid brat was always sliding down the banister. All I had to do was put some grease at the top, so he wouldn't be able to hold on."

He flashed Danny a toothy grin and Danny could see his rotting teeth. He started shivering from the sudden cold in the house and the hallway darkened, as if a cloud suddenly cut off the sunbeams from outside. What had looked like a fairly ordinary boy moments ago, suddenly looked very threatening, with dark circles under his sunken in eyes, his face too pale, his clothes suddenly rags.

Simon's body suddenly seemed to swell up and then shrink, skin falling away, flesh rotting as if he had pushed the fast forward button on a video, until nothing remained but a skeleton wearing a few pieces of cloth. Danny knew he had to do something, but his near panicking brain seemed to shut down. He was unable to tear his eyes away from the skeleton that had once been a little boy named Simon.

Jake started to laugh.

The sound of his laughter thundered through the house, getting louder and louder, until Danny had to hold his hands over his ears. All thought left him completely and he turned around and ran in the direction of one of the doors to his left, tore it open, dashed through it and slammed it behind him. The laughter ceased. The sudden quiet was startling, it was like he had turned off the TV.

"That's it," he thought, shaking, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to calm himself, "I turned off the TV. It... wasn't... real."

Tentatively he turned around, looking at the door. No way in hell was he going to go back into that hallway again. He turned again, and for the first time took in his surroundings. He seemed to be in some sort of library, a large room with hundreds, thousands of books on shelves, running all the way up to the ceiling. A wooden ladder stood in one of the corners, to be used to reach the top shelves. The room itself was neat and clean, the thick carpet and the two leather chairs giving it an opulent look. In the corner a fire was burning in a huge ornamental fireplace, the only piece of wall, apart from the windows, where there were no shelves with books.

A fire... he realized he was shivering, maybe not from the cold, but more from the coldness that came from inside of him, his ghost sense. If he was correct – and he was never wrong in that aspect – the house was filled with ghosts. Quickly he crossed the room and stood close to the fire, wrapping his arms around himself in order to achieve a semblance of warmth. The door opened.

The sound of it startled Danny and he turned around, to look straight into the barrel of a shotgun. He froze, staring at it, somehow unable to tear his eyes away from it and look up to see who was holding it. It was just him and the dark hole of the barrel, a deep tunnel with no light at the end.

"You bastard," a voice said.

Danny tried to swallow and found his mouth unnaturally dry. With some difficulty, he managed to look away from the gun, up at the person pointing it at him. It was a woman in a long, wide dress, looking like she came out of a costume drama, with lots of lace and frills along the rims. Her face was contorted in anger, her eyes shining in the light of the flames from the fire place.

"W-what?" he croaked.

It occurred to him that the only things he had said in this weird place were stuttered one word questions. The woman stepped into the library, keeping the gun pointed at him. He didn't move.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out," she said in a hoarse whisper, "Did you think I was blind? The way you stare at that girl, the way you always turn your head when she passes. The _gifts_ you've been giving her? Dresses? Jewelry?"

He understood. Somehow he knew exactly what she was talking about, that he was her husband, and that he had indeed been fooling around with one of the maids. But it wasn't true, not really, he wasn't really this person, he just thought he was. And now he was going to die. Which was impossible, because he was _dreaming_.

In slow motion he saw her finger pull the trigger, and just as his hands started to come up in defense, the bullet hit him in the stomach, sending him flying against the shelves with books next to the fire place, staining them with his blood. The pain was incredible.

"How can I feel pain," he thought, "This is a dream, right?"

The woman didn't seem to think so. She crossed the room and stopped beside him, looking down on his broken body, slumped against the valuable books that had become worthless with his blood on them. He looked up at her, trying to discern her face in the quickly darkening room, his vision brought back to only his immediate surroundings. The rest of the room seemed to fade away, _he_ seemed to fade away and he had trouble breathing.

"Agnes," he whispered.

His eyes widened as she pressed the gun in his mouth and grinned at him, looking almost happy.

"She's mad," he thought, but that didn't help him.

Agnes bend over, still holding the gun, to look him in the eyes. He could taste the residue of the gun powder at the end of the barrel and the metallic taste of the barrel itself. She pressed a little harder and he gagged.

"I want to see your eyes when you die," Agnes said and pulled the trigger. He didn't hear the shot, nor did he feel the bullet that blew his brains out.

* * *

He was standing in the hallway, facing the grand staircase, wondering how he got there. Hadn't he just died? Hadn't Agnes jut blown his brains out with that enormous shotgun, smiling at him as if she was doing him a favor? Yet here he was, standing in the same place as before as if nothing had happened, no little boys falling from the top of the staircase, no crazy women with shotguns, wanting to shoot him. 

The light was shining through the stained glass windows and he stared at the colorful pattern on the floor, as if it would somehow give meaning to it all. Behind him a door slammed open, allowing the two boys to rush in and preform their little drama. For a moment, Danny stood frozen on the spot as little Simon ran up the stairs, through the colored light, his feet stamping on the steps and smiling with glee, then he glanced at the grinning Jake, whose face was alight in anticipation.

Danny turned and ran at the first door he saw, the door to what he now knew led to the library. He changed his mind at the last moment, however, and ran to the door next to it, bursting through it just as he heard the sickening thud with which Simon hit the cold stones.

The sound of the small boy's fall kept echoing in his mind, even when he shut the door behind him and leaned against it. Thud, crack. Thud, crack. He closed his eyes, trying to stop from shaking all over, trying to catch his breath, but he didn't seem to be able to stop gasping for air.

"I'm hyperventilating," he thought.

"Calm down, boy, you're hyperventilating."

The shock of that sudden voice managed to do what he couldn't a moment earlier; he let out one last breath, and, shagging his shoulders, opened his eyes to see who was talking to him.

The room was large, richly decorated, opulent, like the rest of the house. A long table was standing in the middle of it, surrounded by chairs with high backs, neatly arranged, meticulously evenly spaced along the table. His eyes slid over the table and the chairs, counting them as he noticed the white starched linen, the gold rimmed plates, the evenly placed candles. Ten seats on each side. This was some dining room. For a moment his thoughts went to Vlad's castle, he'd had a similar setup before the place was blown to smithereens by the GIW.

At the end of the table, at the head, sat a man, the man who had spoken to him. Hesitantly, reluctantly, Danny let go of the door an took a few steps into the room, his feet making no sound on the soft carpet. The man was looking at him, his elbows on the table and his hands folded in front of him, regarding him patiently, as if to tell him to take his time, to check the place out.

Danny started walking towards him, letting his hands slide along the backs of the chairs, while taking in the rest of the room. A huge fire place was in the center of the opposing wall, and here too was a fire burning, warming the room with it's orange glow. Above the fireplace hung a familiar painting, and Danny stopped in his tracks to stare at it.

It was the same painting he had seen hanging in the dining room before, the dining room of the real house, the house he was currently sleeping in, and although that house was creepy, the dream was even more creepy and he wished he would wake the hell up. The man from the painting was sitting at the end of the table.

"Well," he said, "Are you going to just stand there?"

Danny took a deep breath and tore his eyes away from the eerie painting, wary of the things to come. Twice he had witnessed a murder already, and he had a feeling this might continue until he woke up. He started moving again, now walking all the way to the end of the table, stopping next to the man sitting there. The man smiled at him.

"Danny, isn't it?" he asked, and gestured at the chair next to him, "Take a seat. Would you like something to eat? You must be hungry."

At that moment Danny indeed felt very hungry, and before he knew it he sat down next to the man and looked at his plate. A bowl of soup was standing in front of him, still steaming as if it had been put there moments before. It looked as if he was expected. Without thinking he grabbed the spoon and started to eat.

"My, you have quite an appetite," the man said and Danny stopped eating to look at him.

He seemed elderly, his hair almost completely white, an older version of the man in the painting, without the high hat. While he looked stern in the painting, he looked friendly now as he looked at Danny in approval, smiling. A thought occurred to Danny.

"How do you know my name?" he asked, putting his spoon down, "And what's yours?"

The man's smile broadened and Danny felt the first sign of slight unease creeping onto him, as if somewhere, in the back of his mind, a little spark was jumping up and down to get his attention. He dismissed it.

"Considering you're in _my_ house, it seems appropriate to me that you introduce yourself first," the man said smoothly.

That made sense. Danny quickly wiped his hands on his pants and extended his hand. The man shook it.

"Danny Fenton," he said.

"Fenton...hmmm...," the man mused, "Can't say I've heard that name before. Do you live in the neighborhood?"

Danny nodded, waiting patiently for him to introduce himself, but he never did. Instead, he gestured to the bowl of soup.

"Eat, eat," he said, "You're famished."

Danny looked down at his bowl and found it mysteriously filled with soup again. Somehow, when he wasn't looking, someone had refilled it. He knew that that should worry him, but instead he picked up his spoon again and emptied the bowl for the second time.

"What is this place?" Danny asked when he had finished, looking up at the man, who was still watching him.

"This is my house of course," the man said, "We don't get many visitors, so we're happy to have you. It gets... lonely."

For a moment Danny thought he saw something flicker in the man's eyes, something dark and disturbing. Somewhere in the back of his mind that little spark started yelling again, encouraged by his uneasiness and the feeling something was wrong. The man frowned at him, as if disturbed by his hesitant behavior. To avoid his eyes, Danny looked down at his bowl again and yelped in surprise.

It was full again, but this time it wasn't soup, but some green slimy mass, gurgling and moving as if something was in there, something alive. He jumped up and backed away, causing the chair to topple over and land on the carpet with a soft thud.

"What's the matter, Danny Fenton," the man said, "Don't you like our soup?"

His voice sounded strange now, not just one voice, but two voices, speaking at the same time, one male and one female. The man stood up and raised his hands in the air, his eyes suddenly black, his skin turning a deathly gray.

Danny did the only thing he could. Shaking, he reached inside of him, searching for that cold spot, letting it out. The two white rings formed around his waist and quickly separated, converting him into an ectoplasmic entity. The moment the chilling sensation of the transformation subsided, Danny could see what he hadn't been able to see before: the man was a puppet too, bound to the house by glowing green strings, manipulating his movements.

Something touched him from behind.

He whirled around, not expecting to see a green string emitting from the wall behind him, searching blindly, poking in his general direction, trying to touch him. Somehow he knew touching it would be a vary bad idea. He darted out of it's way and fired a short ectoblast at it, causing it to shudder and retreat for a moment.

"Danny..."

It was that voice again, now no longer whispering but disturbingly clear, coming from the mouth of the man still standing at the table, that female voice that had been talking to him almost the entire time he had been in the house.

He was floating in the middle of the dining room now, on full alert, warily looking at the walls, expecting some green string to emit from it at any moment. The puppet jerked suddenly, moving forward as if someone was forcefully pulling the strings, closing in on Danny.

"We want you," he said, "We need you. With you, we'll be powerful. With you, we'll be able to free them."

Danny let himself float backwards, away from the advancing ghost-puppet.

"Free who?" he asked.

To his surprise and dismay the ghost suddenly opened his mouth wide and started wailing, a bone chilling, high pitched wail that made Danny want to put his hands over his ears. It distracted him, penetrated his skull, invaded his body and for a moment he hung in the air motionless. A big mistake.

From two sides the green strings shot out of the wall and slammed into his thighs, wrapping themselves around his legs and his torso, strangely stinging through his hazemat suit. He cried out in pain as green ectoplasm started seeping through where the strings touched him, and he realized it was cutting through his suit and through his skin. Struggling, he tried to free himself, firing ectoblasts at the strings with had no effect, other than that it seemed to latch on even tighter, and he was sure it would have cut off the circulation in his legs if he had had any.

He tried intangibility next, then freezing them, and when that didn't work he started to get desperate. He didn't want to use his ghostly wail, the house would collapse and his friends were still in there somewhere. They'd be crushed.

The man was laughing, a female laughter that sounded very strange coming from him.

"Give it up boy," he said, "Just hold still. It will only hurt a moment."

He started advancing on him again, extending his hands, a gleeful expression on his face. For a moment he was paralyzed with fear, then he started struggling again, causing the strings to cut in even deeper. He stopped again, panting.

The ghost's hands touched him, got hold of his head and pulled him close, until he could stare into the black pits that were his eyes, his face only inches away from his own. Something started seeping into him and he whimpered, feeling invaded, trying to push it out.

"Stop...resisting...boy..."

The voice was hardly recognizable as a human voice anymore, neither male nor female, but more like a growling, hungry monster. Danny felt it's essence pushing into him through his skin, enveloping him, choking him.

"No," he managed to choke out.

Already he was starting to feel the house again, the vastness of it, the ground it was standing on, the ghosts in it... He realized the house was not one entity, but a multitude, and he was about to become part of it. He was losing himself. It was utterly scary and also incredibly alluring, to be able to be everywhere at once, strike out at everything and everyone that ever had ever hurt him. His resistance faltered.

"Yes!" the house said and slammed through him.

"No!" he yelled.

With a last effort he raised both hands and let his anger flare into a huge flame, a fire bolt that slammed straight into the puppet that was still holding him. It screeched and flew backwards, letting go of Danny. In an instant, he was himself again, and he stared at the slightly smoking hole he had just blasted through the ghost on a string.

He looked down at the hole in his chest and then up at Danny again, who was still held in place by the two green strings coming from the walls. Then his face contorted in rage and he lost all semblance to a human being.

"Fire!" he hissed, "How dare you use fire on _me_!"

Danny stared in surprise at the ghost, his hands still glowing from the fire burst, tiny flames dancing around his fingers. Then the ghost suddenly wailed again.

"They burned me! Burned me! It hurt! _Hurt_!"

With that last cry the ghost suddenly launched itself at Danny and he blasted it again, this time not letting go, but instead intensifying the fire until it burned with a white flame, incinerating the ghost, and oddly also torching the painting that was right behind him. The ghost screamed, the house screamed and Danny felt the strings unwind from his legs, retreating into the wall. He let himself float to the ground, trying to regain some control over the intensely hot flame that was springing from his hands, burning his fingertips through his gloves.

Slowly, his anger subsided somewhat, and the flame lost it's intense heat now that he managed to control the energy supply. The room, which had been brightly lit by the fire now darkened again, until finally only the light of the candles and the fireplace remained.

The man was still there, a black lump sitting on the floor, smoking, and he gagged from stench of burning flesh. He felt sick and shaky and had to grab hold of a chair to prevent him from falling. All energy gone, he let the two rings appear around his waist again, returning him to his human form, although he somehow felt less human than before.

He looked up at the painting. It was still there, but the portrait of the man had been burned away. Just as it had hung in the dining room when they had first explored the house. He pushed back a sob and backed away from it, feeling behind him for the knob of the door. He didn't make it.

Something was there, on the ground, and he tripped. He let out a small cry as he fell backwards, cut off when his head smacked on the doorstep. For a moment his vision swam and he tried to hold on to his consciousness, then everything went black.

* * *

_Um, come to think of it, this is another cliffie... In fact, I'm afraid from now on all the chapters are probably going to end with a cliffhanger. I have to break off _somewhere... 


	7. Guilt

* * *

**THE HOUSE**

**Chapter 7: Guilt**

* * *

The screaming had stopped, yet it seemed to echo through her mind, making the silence in the room even more ominous. Shaking, Sam clambered to her feet, while trying to determine what exactly it was that made her feel so terrified. Next to her, Tucker was jamming his laptop into his backpack with jerky, uncoordinated movements, as if it was the only thing keeping him from rolling into a ball and whimper. 

"What should we do," Dash whispered, all pretense of leadership and control gone.

His face was white and his eyes were wide in fear, Sam noticed. She ignored him, staring instead at the black hole of the door leading to the hallway. The one candle was hardly enough to light the room, let alone the the space beyond the doorway, and she felt like she was on an island, a bubble, surrounded by darkness.

"We find Danny and Kwan and we get the hell out of here," Tucker said in a tight voice.

He started moving around the room, searching first around the extinct candles, then further away.

"Great," he grumbled, "Wherever they went, they took my flashlight."

Sam suppressed a shiver, willing her body to obey her to get out of the paralyzed feeling she had. She bend forward, took two of the extinct candles and lit them in the flame of the last one burning. She handed one to Tucker, who had just put his backpack on his back, and one to Dash, who took it reluctantly. Then she picked up her own backpack and the last candle.

"Let's go," she said, surprised that her voice sounded confident and determined, instead of weak and trembling.

She went ahead, holding her hand close to the flame to protect it from sudden gusts of wind, trusting the others to follow her, which they did. The hallway seemed dark and forbidding, a feeling that was heightened by the moving shadows on the walls. A strong odor hung in the air, something that hadn't been there before. Tucker laughed nervously.

"Someone's been barbecuing," he said, trying to lighten the atmosphere of doom that hung over them.

Sam wrinkled her nose at the distinct smell of burned meat. No one in the house was cooking anything, of that she was sure, and with all that rain it couldn't come from the outside. The feeling that they needed to get out of the house was stronger now, and she looked longingly at the door.

"Get Danny," she thought, tearing her eyes away, "Then run like hell."

A small cry from Tucker diverted her attention from the invitation the door seemed to hold to her, and she looked to where he was pointing. The door to the dining room was open, and someone was laying on the floor, someone with black hair and a white t-shirt.

Without saying anything, Sam rushed past Tucker, throwing all caution to the wind, and knelt beside the unconscious form of Danny, laying on his back with his head on the doorstep with his eyes closed, breathing evenly, as if he were asleep. The smell of burnt meat was stronger here, way stronger, but she paid no attention to it. She put her candle down on the floor and shook his shoulders.

"Danny!" she said urgently, "Wake up!"

Tucker and Dash moved closer, holding their candles, and she carefully rolled him over to check if he was injured in any way. But other than a lump the size of an egg on the back of his head, he seemed fine.

"We have to get him out of here," she said.

Tucker stepped past her into the dining room, looking around. The far end of the room was in darkness, the light of the candle he was holding not being enough to light the entire room. Something shiny at Danny's feet caught his attention, and he bend over to pick it up.

"My flashlight," he said, clicking the button several times, and then shaking it. "Broken."

"You mean we only have those candles for light," Dash said, obviously trying to keep from panicking, "This sucks, man, they're useless outside." He paused. "What _is_ that smell?"

He stepped over Danny, accidentally kicking his feet, and Danny moaned. Immediately Sam forgot all about the jock and turned her attention to her friend on the floor.

"Danny?" she whispered, shaking him again, "Wake up. Come on, wake up. We can't carry you all the way."

His hands moved to his head and he let out another long moan. Then he slowly opened his eyes, obviously having trouble focusing. She wondered if he had a concussion.

"S-Sam," he croaked, trying to smile, "What happened? Where am I?"

"You're taking a nap on the floor in the dining room, that's what you're doing," Dash said impatiently, "Where's Kwan?"

Danny looked at him, uncomprehending. He pushed himself up and rested on his elbows, wincing, then looked around with a baffled expression on his face.

"Kwan?" he asked, "How should I know? How did I get here?"

He pushed himself further up to a sitting position, then leaned back against the wall for support. Sam thought he looked very pale, but that could just have been the light. Suddenly his eyes widened, fear seemed to overtake him for a moment, before he managed to control himself again. With some effort, he slowed his breathing, and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he seemed calm, but Sam knew that the fear was still near, he just wasn't showing it.

"That smell...," he whispered, "I... how...what happened?"

Sam shivered, remembering her dream, her nightmare, about the burning woman whose face had blackened, burning, dying in the flames. The same stench of burning flesh... it was right here, as if she was burnt here. She didn't understand how she could recall a smell from her dream so vividly, but she did. It was not something easy to forget, and she tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. _Where was Kwan_?

"Danny," she said, "Why are you here?"

She didn't want to hear the answer. She didn't want to go looking further in the room. The urge to leave now was so strong that she started tugging his hands, trying to get him to stand up. He looked back at her, bewildered.

"I don't know," he said, his voice stronger now, "I must have fallen asleep, I was on your sleeping bag. I woke up here just now. I don't know how I got here... I was dreaming..."

A strange sound from the other side of the room stopped him and he looked up, trying to see what was happening. Dash had wandered away from them, walking in the direction of the kitchen, and in doing so, had rounded the table. He was standing there, frozen, holding his candle in front of him, staring at something on the floor.

"Dash? What's up?" Tucker asked.

Dash didn't answer, but kept staring, unable to move. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Now curious, Tucker moved towards him, rounded the table as well and stood next to him. And froze. Sam watched in amazement and horror as she saw his face contort in fear and disgust, and then he turned around and was violently sick in the corner of the room. His candle dropped on the floor and it went out immediately.

Beside her Danny scrambled to his feet and rushed to Dash, and she followed him, knowing she probably didn't want to see whatever was there. She was right.

On the floor, beneath the painting, was a black, human shaped lump, still smoking. He wasn't recognizable, his hair and his clothes had all burned away, he was just a shape. The only way she knew it was Kwan, was that he was the one missing from their little group. She felt sick and was swaying on her feet, and then somebody grabbed her and pulled her away, to the other side of the room, so that the body of Kwan was out if sight.

She looked at Danny's grim face as he stared at her, his eyes uncommonly hard.

"What... what did you do?" she asked him.

That was not what she had wanted to ask him. She had wanted to ask whether he knew what had happened, whether they were attacked by something, and then he would have explained to her that he had had nothing to do with it, that he hadn't used his fire power on Kwan.

"I didn't do anything," he said, his tone of voice betraying that he was trying to convince himself, "I was sleeping. I was dreaming. It was a dream, a _dream_!"

A strange light was shining in his eyes, fear mixed with anxiety, and something else, something she had seen before, up in the attic. He's not mad, she thought, he's perfectly normal, just like the rest of us. The fact that he was pushing her against the wall, his hands grabbing her upper arms so tight she was sure she would have bruises later, didn't mean anything other than that he was scared too.

"Danny...you're hurting me," she said, trying to sound reasonable.

It took him a few seconds to comprehend what she was saying and with a mumbled apology he let go of her and turned around, to look at Tucker and Dash, who were both staring at him.

"I didn't do it!" he yelled at them.

Dash growled, took three big steps and grabbed Danny, pushing him against the wall next to Sam.

"What exactly _didn't_ you do, Fenton," he snarled, "That was my friend. And he's dead! You'd better have a very good explanation for that, or I swear I'll..."

He didn't get to finish his sentence. Danny kicked him unexpectedly in the shins and Dash yelped in pain, easing his grip on Danny for just a moment. And a moment was all Danny needed. Eyes flaring green, he grabbed Dash and swung him around in an unusual display of strength, enhanced by his ghost powers, and slammed him against the wall at the precise spot he had been standing himself a moment before. Dash squeaked in surprise.

"I. Didn't. Do it," Danny growled.

He let go of the shocked jock and stepped back, slightly staggering, until he reached the edge of the table. Leaning against it, he seemed to deflate, his momentary anger subsiding while his eyes turned blue again.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

Alarmed, Sam rushed forward, ready to catch him if he should fall, but he managed to stay upright. He waved his hand at her to indicate he was fine, although he clearly wasn't. She wondered just how hard he had hit his head, and if that was the only thing wrong with him.

"So, what happened then?" Tucker asked timidly.

He was shifting his feet, alternately putting weight on them, as if he was ready to bolt at any moment. Sam noticed he didn't come any closer to Danny, in fact he seemed to be edging away from him, as if the power that he had considered cool before, now terrified him. Next to her, Danny tensed. He had noticed it too.

"I don't know," he answered hoarsely, "I was laying on Sam's sleeping bag. I couldn't sleep. And then I must have fallen asleep anyway, because I was dreaming. _Dreaming_... And then I woke up here."

Sam touched his arm and he tensed, and then relaxed again, but she could tell it took some effort.

"What, did you walk in your sleep? What were you dreaming about, Fenton, setting fire to Kwan?" Dash asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"Not Kwan," Danny muttered, looking down.

A cold fear came over Sam and her mouth went dry. _Not Kwan_. Then who? Who did Danny hate enough to want to set him on fire? Did he dream about burning Plasmius, or even Dash? It occurred to her that she didn't even consider the fact that Danny might be innocent, that he really hadn't done anything to Kwan. He had been too happy with his new power, too eager to use it, to show off, even when he didn't really control it completely. It was that lack of control that had worried her in the past month, even if Danny had been practicing with it. It hadn't shocked her that he had burnt the candle earlier, it had been the lack of control over even the smallest of flames that had frightened her.

Dash stepped closer, careful not to grab him this time.

"Did you want to get _me_, Fenton? Did you? You're sick, twisted... I always knew there was something wrong with you. How did you do it anyway, where did you get the gasoline?"

Danny was shaking his head feverishly, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, hugging himself.

"I told you, I didn't do it! It was only a dream! I couldn't have done something like that, I would never, ever do that!" he yelled, "I've never hurt humans in my entire life!"

He was swaying on his feet and Sam grabbed hold of him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him tightly, while he tried to keep from crying, continuously muttering to himself 'I didn't do it'. He knew, she realized, he knew he had inadvertently killed Kwan, while using his ghost powers in his sleep. She also noticed he called them 'humans'. As if he didn't consider himself to be that.

"Hush," she said, trying to calm him down, "I know you didn't mean to. Let's just get out of this place, everything will be alright."

"No it won't," Dash said angrily, shaking his fist at them, "He's going down for this. I'll tell the police. He's a murderer!"

Sam knew he was right. There was no way everything was going to be alright ever again, even if they did manage to keep Danny out of jail. After all, there was no proof he did it, other than that he was found in the same room as Kwan, and had started denying before anybody had accused him of anything. Then it hit her that she was trying to cover up for him, to find excuses for what he'd done. She also realized she couldn't help herself.

Tucker hadn't said anything up until now, obviously realizing he was letting his friend down, yet seemingly somehow unable to stop fidgeting. He spoke now though.

"Let's...go outside. Please," he whispered, "Something bad is going to happen if we stay here, I know it. This house is alive, can't you feel it?"

Sam wholeheartedly agreed with him, and she started tugging Danny's arms to drag him away from the table in the direction of the door, but he seemed strangely reluctant. He tore his arm free from her, and instead grabbed hold of the table with both hands, still leaning against it.

"You.. you go," he said, hardly able to control his voice, "I'll... I'll just stay here for a while... yes, stay here... I'm doomed anyway."

"Oh no you don't," Dash growled, "You're gonna answer for this."

He grabbed Danny and started pulling, but Danny managed to hold on to the table.

"Come on, Danny," Sam said desperately, "We're not leaving without you. We're in this together, remember?"

Danny seemed to struggle with himself, closing his eyes, his face contorting in anguish and pain, his breathing quickening. She needed to help him, she decided, so she grabbed his arms, which felt strangely cold, brought her mouth close to his ear and started whispering to him, telling him he was her friend, their friend, that they needed him, who else was going to catch all the ghosts, the town would be overrun with them, they would help him, nothing bad would happen to him if he just let go of the table and followed them out of the room.

She talked about the good times they'd had, watching movies in her basement, hanging out at the mall, the park, the school even. She talked about his family, how nice and how weird they were, how jealous she was of him to have a family like that, how he couldn't let them down by staying in this house.

Slowly, she felt the tension ease from his arms as he let go of the table, stumbling forward because Dash was still pulling. She caught him before he could fall and shot Dash an angry look. The jock leaned forward, putting his face close to hers.

"He's a murderer," he hissed, "Don't you forget that, you goth geek. Your boyfriend is a murderer!"

He turned on his heels to walk to the door, just as Danny stumbled forward, leaning on Sam. He was moving willingly now, she noticed to her relief, seemingly eager to get out. The house didn't agree to it however.

A bright light suddenly shone through the front windows, lighting the entire room, growing brighter and brighter until they could no longer look at it. Dash and Tucker, who had been standing near the door, staggered backwards, their arms in front of their eyes to shield them from the blinding light. Sam shut her eyes and something started to pound in her head, as if the light penetrated her skull somehow. Beside her, Danny moaned.

Then the screaming started, Dash and Tucker turning around and running away from the windows, and she heard herself screaming with them. They all moved in slow motion somehow, running to the door to the kitchen, pushing each other to get to the door first in a blind, panicked run.

The windows exploded inwards, completely fragmenting the glass into tiny shards that were twinkling in the bright light, showering the room and them with it. Sam felt them cut her arms and neck, and she cried out in pain and shock. Then someone grabbed her and pushed her through the door into the kitchen and slammed it behind them.

They stood in the kitchen, panting, looking at each other fearfully, their faces white and their eyes wide. Sam was shaking all over, feeling the blood trickling down her arms, and she desperately clung on to Tucker, who had been the one to push her out of the dining room. Dash was moaning, having lost all control over himself. He was leaning forward, rocking back and forth a little, his hand on the counter, unaware of the slimy black goo that now stained his hands.

And Danny... Danny was standing in the middle of the kitchen, facing the dark windows, as if he was waiting for something. Sam realized that she didn't want to be around to see whatever it was he was waiting for, and then it hit her. How come she was able to see at all? She tried to focus, steering her panicking brain away from the little voice in her head that kept saying 'run, run, run, run', knowing that it was somehow significant that she came up with an explanation. It should be pitch dark in the kitchen, and yet, it wasn't. The windows seemed to be glowing slightly...

At that moment, Danny turned around and grinned, but there was no joy in it. Sam could see the terror in his eyes, and she started moving, urging Tucker along, in the direction of the back door, desperate to get out. Dash seemed to drag himself out of his stupor and started to follow.

It happened again. The bright light, seemingly coming from outside, although Sam couldn't see the backyard at all. It was just the windows going white, a blinding light that she couldn't look at. Prepared this time, none of them wasted any time wondering what to do, but instead they rushed to the door to the hallway. Tucker was the first to go through, and his cry in surprise should have stopped them, but they already had too much momentum.

They flew in after him, stumbling, and then the ground disappeared from under their feet and they tumbled down into the darkness.


	8. Infinity

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Whenever I near the end of a story, my mind drifts to the next one and I get sidetracked. To compensate, this is by far the longest chapter of this story.

I'm doing something unusual here, normally I sit on my chapters for at least a day, and then look at it again to weed out any strange turns, make sure the plot moves like it's supposed to and generally get rid of any stupidity (there's always something). But I feel bad about taking so long, so I'm posting it now.

* * *

**THE HOUSE**

**Chapter 8: Infinity**

* * *

_Creeping, crawling, digging into his skin... no, the woodwork, water leaking through the roof, soaking the timber, rotting, withering, an abandoned bird's nest, the remains of a dead bird, mice everywhere, tickling, their tiny paws scurrying on the floor, rats in the cellar, people in the cellar..._

A scraping sound, somebody moaning. Then a voice, a girl, hoarse, shaking in fear and pain, somewhere to his left.

"D-Danny?"

He didn't answer, but instead concentrated on his breathing, trying to take deep, even breaths, feeling the icy air fill his lungs. Concentration slipped away again, however, and he felt his eyes – had they been open? – close again, his head falling forward.

_His foundation was firmly set in the ground, old, older than he was himself, yet he was the older foundation as well, it's stones and arcs crumbling with age, parts of him caved in under the weight of the hill above it, every vibration that came from trucks traveling on the road causing some of the mortar to seep out. He was being crushed._

"Tucker!"

Sam's voice, stronger now, with a sense of urgency in it. He heard her move around, felt her hands touch the floor of the cellar and he opened his eyes again, trying to peer through the darkness, but it was no use. He felt the cold stones of the wall against his back, his head, and he realized he was sitting up, not lying down.

"I'm here," Tucker said, his voice coming from a little further away to his left.

_A warm body (Tucker?) was laying on the floor, about ten feet away from the girl, who was in fact quite close to him, no more than three feet away. He touched her warmth, felt it leaking into the cold floor, draining her. He felt the other boy too – Dash, his name was Dash –, starting to stir, moving his hands, clawing in the dirt on the floor. He could feel him shake in fear, and he almost laughed._

Tucker groaned, and moved around a little, muttering to himself. Danny couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but it had the words 'PDA' and 'baby' in it. He guessed Tucker was searching for his backpack, and he could have told him exactly where it was, if he had wanted to.

_Infinity... he felt infinite. Whatever he concentrated on, he could see. The structure of the dirt he was laying on, black, larger sand grains mixed with earth, humus, a few stones and rocks buried just below the surface. Worms, tiny white blind maggots, wiggling. Something rotting in the corner..._

"Found it," Tucker said, sounding relieved.

Sam muttered something under her breath, and started moving around, crawling in the direction she had heard Tucker.

"Tucker? Say something, so I know where you are," she said.

Her voice was strong now, confident, and Danny admired her strength, her ability to take control of a situation, however bad. And this definitely could be categorized as bad.

"Sam, I think you're close, I can hear you moving, is Danny with you? How about Dash? Ah, there you are."

_Something, some animal, was gnawing at one of the beams supporting the roof, biting tiny splinters off it with its sharp teeth, and Danny flinched. It was like he was being eaten alive, and he wanted to somehow shake the animal away, but he couldn't. The house conveyed it's agreement._

"Guys?"

Dash's voice, hoarse, his voice cracking with tension, sounding as if he was about to break down. Danny felt the jock's hands on the floor, still clawing into the dirt, as if he was trying to dig a hole with his bare hands to hide in. In the darkness, Danny grinned.

"Let me help you with that," he thought maliciously.

"_I'll dig the hole... you blast him..."_

The house laughed, a hysterical, mad laughter, not unlike that of the ghost of Jake earlier in the hallway, who had laughed at the death of his little brother. Danny pressed his hands over his ears, and started shaking his head, trying to push the house out of his mind. Part of him wanted to laugh with the house.

"Danny? Can you hear us? Are you hurt? Please answer..."

Sam and Tucker together, wanting him to answer. He concentrated on their voices, and the laughter stopped. For now.

"Yeah. I'm OK," he said.

He moved his arms and legs, to verify the statement, and it seemed that he had assessed his state correctly. Physically, he was OK, save for some sore spots that would probably turn into nasty bruises.

"Danny," Sam said, "We really could use some light here."

Danny hesitated and Dash snorted, seemingly finding that concentrating on his walking, talking, personal punching bag was better than thinking about the situation they were in.

"Did ya bring your matches, freak, what are you going to use for a torch, one of us?" he spat.

"Come on, Danny, we don't have much choice here," Sam said, ignoring Dash, "We can't get out if we can't see. I don't have a clue in which direction the door is."

Silently, Danny held out his right hand and formed a small, glowing, green ecto ball, letting it hover in front of him. Sam and Tucker were where he already knew they were, their faces pale in the odd green light, their eyes unnaturally bright. Dash was to their right, sitting on the floor, staring at him with his mouth open.

"Wha...what are you," he whispered, shock preventing him from moving.

Danny bend forward and let his eyes flash green for a moment.

"I'm a freak, Dash, you knew that."

"_Freak...freak...FREAK... hahahahahahaha..."_

"Shut up!" Danny yelled, "Stop talking to me. Stop _laughing_ at me! Leave me alone!"

In his distress, he let the tiny ball evaporate, plunging them into darkness again, causing a shriek from Dash, and a sharp intake of breath from Sam. He wrapped his hands around his knees and held on tightly, rocking back and forth in his attempt to gain control over the voice that seemed to exist only in his head.

Somehow, Sam managed to make her way towards him in the darkness, surprising him with her accuracy in the dark, until he realized he was whimpering and moaning. He stopped when she put her arms around him and started whispering in his ear. The voice quieted down.

"I'm alright," he gasped, "I'm OK. They're gone now. I'm alright."

"Dude," Tucker said, his voice shaking, "I'd really appreciate it if you could make one of those ecto balls again..."

Taking a shuddering breath, Danny again held out his hand, and the small green ball lit up again, lighting only their direct environment, like a glowing bubble in a void, a dark universe in which only they existed. Dash had started shaking again, Danny saw, and he looked at Danny fearfully, apparently trying to decide whether to brave the darkness outside their little bubble, or stay close to an ectoplasm wielding murderer. He chose the latter.

"Who is gone now, Danny?" Sam asked, her tone of voice reasonable, soothing.

He looked at her worried eyes, knowing that she thought he had gone crazy, knowing that she knew he was a murderer...

"I'm not a murderer," he whispered.

"Of course not," Tucker said, "I know you wouldn't do that. Hey, maybe that wasn't even Kwan, I mean, maybe that was somebody else that died there before we got there, it's not like you could actually see who he or she was anymore..."

His tone of voice was light, but the expression on his face betrayed him. Tucker didn't really think that, and the reasoning was absurd.

"He was still smoking," Dash said sharply, still apprehensively eying the floating green ball, and then, more hopeful, "But it could have been anybody..."

"It was Kwan," Danny said abruptly, trying to steer his thoughts away from the black form in the dining room that, when burning, had blackened the wooden floor and had scorched the wall. He hated the feel of the body on the floor, pressed against him, the exposed skull wearing a mocking grin.

"How do you know?" Sam started, but she was interrupted by Dash.

"Of course he'd know," he said acidly, "He killed him."

Sam shot him an angry look, scowling so fiercely at him that he backed away somewhat. Sam turned to Danny again, who was staring at Dash, his eyes glazed.

"You looked at him for like, what, two seconds," she said, "You can't have seen him all that well."

"I see him now," Danny said, staring ahead, looking _through_ Dash somehow, "Kwan was wearing one of those jackets. They have steel buttons on it. The jacket is gone but the buttons are still there, burnt into him..."

He felt sick, and, judging from the soft, hiccuping sound Sam was making, so did she.

"_Murderer... Like it, did you? You burnt him, burnt me..."_

Danny made no attempt to answer this time, silently leaning against Sam, and his concentration faltered.

_The dirt that made up the ground in the cellar seeped into him, became part of him, and he felt it stretch endlessly, the huge cellar extending itself into an impossible distance, dimensions distorted, twisted, dizzying. There was a time component to it too, as if he could see what had taken place in that cellar all those years, atrocities, murder, torture. The house seemed to hum to herself, laughing a little as if she was telling him a joke, as if she was showing him pictures in a family photo album._

"Danny stop that, you're scaring me," Sam said sharply.

He blinked, focused on her again, and stopped humming. He realized he was also smiling vaguely, which seemed to scare her even more. He dropped the smile.

"Sorry," he muttered.

He held out his hand and formed another glowing green ball, a little bigger this time, and let it float higher up, so that they could see a little bit further into the cellar. It was huge, the vaulted ceiling looking ancient, tunnels leading away from them in various directions, tunnels of which the darkness was only reluctantly pushed back by the ghostly green light.

Dash seemed to freak out even more by the second ball, moving away from Danny until his back hit the wall. Somehow, accepting the first ball didn't prepare him for the second one.

"You're some weird experiment of your parents, aren't you," he whispered.

"Something like that," Danny said irritably.

He looked around. Something was not right. How did they get here, in the middle of the cellar, not an entrance in sight? They had fallen through the door, the door that should have led to the hallway, and he distinctly remembered hitting at least a few steps of the stairs. The various bruises on his back confirmed that. As he looked, he saw the cellar extend even further, and judging from the gasps around him, so did the others.

_Stretching... he was stretching reality, bending it to his liking, confusing the humans that were in his cellar. He twisted and turned, letting the power of it slide through his fingertips, pushing against the walls that were not really walls. He was changing himself._

"Danny, for God's sake snap out of it!"

He took a deep breath, and pushed all thought of stretching himself out. His connection to the house seemed to grow stronger, strong enough to be overwhelmed by it every now and then, unless he managed to focus on being only himself. The only problem with that being that he didn't really want to be himself anymore. He was dangerous. He had killed.

"We'd better try and find a way out of here," he said.

They all got to their feet, painfully grumbling to themselves, rubbing sore spots. Danny quickly lit three more balls and sent them into three different directions, lighting the rest of the cellar. Dash whimpered.

The unnatural cold of the cellar surrounded them, making their breaths visible in the eerie green light. The vaulted ceiling, high enough to be able to walk up straight, seemed old, crumbling. A small stream of sand fell down, and he thought he saw some big insect scurrying away from them, trying to hide from the light it was unaccustomed to. For a moment, Danny felt it's tiny paws touching the ceiling, but he managed to push it away this time.

"Which way?" Sam whispered.

Tucker clutched his backpack close to him, both arms wrapped around it, glancing nervously around.

"There!" he said, pointing in the direction one of the ecto balls had gone.

They all looked, and for sure, it seemed like the bottom part of a stairwell, some distance away from them. Without thinking, Dash ran for it, ignoring Danny's 'Wait!'.

"_...You could take him down now, he has his back to you..."_

"Shut up," Danny yelled, as he started to run after the jock, "I'm not listening to you, so you might as well stop talking to me!"

"_...Oh, but we're having so much fun..."_

At that moment, the jock screamed and stopped running. For a moment, Danny wondered what was going on, and then he saw it. The ground moved, swirled, as if it suddenly became liquid, a black pool that gurgled as the air above it rippled. Danny felt a cold mist coming from his core, breathing out of his mouth, mingling with the already cold air.

Beside him, Dash stood still, unable to move, his eyes bulging. The liquid moved, something rose up from it, dripping black goo that looked suspiciously like blood, now that he thought about it. The sound of the drops hitting the pool below the... thing, sounded strangely loud, echoing against the ceiling and the distant walls. Again, the air rippled, reality shifted, and again, he felt it.

Dash was breathing in short gasps, still frozen in place, as the shape of what appeared to be a person approached, floating above the black pool, it's arms stretched out as if it wanted to catch the jock. Danny watched, strangely fascinated. It looked like something from a horror movie. A bad horror movie, the kind that showed only darkness, graveyards and monsters popping up out of nowhere, unrealistic enough not to lose a meal over.

Dash had obviously seen too many of those. He seemed to wake up from his frozen state, and started inching backwards further, his movements jerky like a robot, making incoherent sounds. Danny smirked at him, while at the same time keeping an eye on Sam and Tucker, who stood close together on the spot he had left them.

"Wait," he whispered to the cowering football player, "Wait. Look."

"_...what are you doing? ... Leave it alone, you fool!"_

Danny stepped forward and extended his hand, to almost touch the apparition. But he didn't need to touch it to feel it, it's slimy, bony shape, it's empty eye sockets now showing as holes in what posed as it's head. He admired the house's handiwork for a moment, it was awfully real. His fingers touched something, but it wasn't a slimy monster, more like a liquid wall. The air rippled again, and so did the monster from the black pool, and the pool itself.

"Illusion," he said.

The apparition vanished and the world slammed into place with such force that Danny felt as if he had hit a brick wall full force. And he knew what that felt like. With a groan, he fell to his knees.

_He was surrounded, cold, insubstantial hands grabbing him, voices in his ears pleading to let go, to help them, to join them, become part of the void. The walls around him were green, dripping ectoplasm, glowing eerily in the dim light in the cellar, his cellar. Faces around him, strangely transparent, some young, some old, but all in various stages of decay. He would become one of them, part of them, and maybe, if he really tried, command them._

He was being dragged, his arms were around their shoulders, his feet dragging. He could smell Sam's scent, felt her hair brush against his cheek, felt her trembling body gasping for air as they moved, struggling to keep him upright. The other one obviously was Tucker, judging from the monotone stream of complaints coming from his mouth.

"Guys," he said, and immediately, they stopped.

"Good, you're awake," Tucker gasped, "Can you walk? We're trying for the stairs, but they seem to be moving away from us."

"_...you'll never make it..."_

"We'll never make it," Danny said, trying to get his feet under him so he could stand.

To his surprise, the ecto balls were still lighting the cellar, obviously he had been able to maintain some form of control over them when he had been 'out of it'. The feeling of urgency to leave the house right now was almost overwhelming, and in fact was now stronger than his need to stay. As they stood there, Dash behind them, the stairs shimmered and disappeared altogether. Danny ignored the soft laughter he knew the others couldn't hear.

"Um," Danny said hesitantly, "You can let go now, I can stand..."

Even in these circumstances, although hardly visible in the green light supplied by the ecto ball hovering above their heads, Sam blushed.

The group stood close together, staring at the place the staircase had seemed to be, staring at each other, the expressions on their faces ranging from terror to numb acceptance. They were stuck down in this cellar, the house was toying with them, playing tricks on them, driving them mad. The cellar seemed even more ominous now, it's dark stone walls crumbling with old age, the ceiling cracked and unstable, judging from the stream of sand that fell down from it every now and then.

Suddenly Tucker wondered how that could be, how there could be sand over their heads. It should have been just the bottom of the wooden floor in the kitchen, or the hallway, or maybe even the living room, but instead, the arched ceiling seemed to have sand on it, and here and there Tucker could see water dripping through.

His thoughts were disturbed when Dash let himself sink to the ground with a small moan and just sat there, slowly rocking back and forth, as if by doing that, he could ward off the feeling of doom that hung over them all. Tucker sneered at him for doing that, practically giving up, giving in to the situation. His own heart, however, was beating at an unhealthy fast rate, and he felt his breath go in short gasps. It took some effort to calm down a little.

"We're not under the house anymore," he said.

Danny turned his head to look at him, and Tucker was glad to see he was actually there. That vacant look that he had gotten in his eyes earlier scared him silly. It seemed as if his friend was struggling to stay focused, to stay with them, and there was no telling what would happen when Danny lost it completely. For a moment, the burnt body of Kwan entered his mind, but he pushed that thought out again as being unproductive.

"No," Danny said, "I mean, yes, I mean... I don't know what I mean. This isn't real, we're not where we seem to be, this is... another place, maybe another time. There _used_ to be a cellar like this here..."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, "We're here, aren't we? Isn't this just part of the older house that stood here before this one?"

Danny seemed to shiver, and then his eyes became vacant, and his mouth twitched. Sam shoved him, hard, and he snapped out of it again, blinking. He continued as if nothing had happened.

"I can feel it. She moves us around at will, she's trying to... catch me."

"How very perceptive of you."

Tucker swirled at the whispering voice coming from behind him, and stared at the mist that had formed in the cellar, swirling and twirling until it suddenly took form and solidified, taking the shape of an old woman with gray hair, fanning in all directions. Her dress was long and looked scorched, and as she became more solid, Tucker could see massive burn marks on her arms and face too. Her pale eyes glittered with a power that left him breathless. Unconsciously, he stepped away from her, realizing too late that she was now between him and the others.

"You!" Sam exclaimed to everyone's surprise, "You are causing all this! Why! Why Laura, why?"

The apparition hissed in her direction, and Tucker took a few more steps back, until his back hit the wall. He glanced at Sam, but she no longer had her backpack, and it contained the thermos. Carefully, he started edging along the wall, to get around her and back to his friends. Danny was gaping at the hovering ghost.

"You... you know her?" he asked.

"She was in my dream," Sam whispered, and Tucker saw she tried to shrink away from the ghost as it suddenly closed in on her.

The ghost of Laura stretched out her hand and seemed to touch Sam's face. Danny seemed to be in a trance, just staring at her, letting it happen. Dash looked like he had completely given up, his eyes closed tightly, seemingly trying out the old trick of 'if I can't see you, you can't see me'.

"Danny," Tucker got out, his voice barely more than a squeak, "Danny, do something!"

The ghost turned away from Sam and turned to him, and he froze. Then she laughed a cackling laugh, and Tucker could feel the sweat trickling down his back, even though it was very cold in the cellar. She held out her hands and waved them, and another figure appeared beside her, a well know figure with black hair and angular eyes. If possible, Danny went even paler.

"Recognize him, do you?" Laura laughed, pointing the ghost of Kwan, floating next to her with a confused expression on his face, "Why don't you tell us what happened, Kwannie-boy."

"You burnt me," Kwan said hollowly, and then suddenly his eyes flared red and he launched himself at Danny.

Danny moved instinctively, pushing Sam away and holding out his hands, blasting Kwan, hitting him full in the chest. Kwan flew backwards, crying out, and Laura started to laugh hysterically. Screaming with laughter, she raised her hands again and pointed them not at Danny, but at Kwan.

"Look!" she screeched, "Look what you did!"

Kwan was just righting himself in mid air, when he burst into flames. He started howling in pain and anger, the same screaming that had woken them up not a half hour ago, and as he writhed and thrashed, his body turned black. Tucker could do nothing but stare, and strangely, the macabre thought entered his mind that the orange flames lit the cellar much better than Danny's green ecto balls.

The smell of burnt flesh reached him, and he vowed that he wouldn't eat meat for a week if he could just get out of there. He was also sure that he would never be able to stand a barbecue again. He looked at Sam and saw that she was trying her best not to gag.

Danny, however, stood perfectly still, staring at the smoking apparition in front of him, his only movement being his chest heaving in short gasps. He was losing it, Tucker realized, and he tried to push his frozen brain into action, to try and think up something, anything, to get them out of there. Nothing came to mind, nothing that didn't involve Danny using his ghost powers, and Tucker was a little wary of those now.

The gray woman was floating close to Danny now, staring intently at him, her eyes boring into his. Dash had opened one eye to peek, and immediately started whimpering when he saw the ghost floating less than a yard from him, but he seemed unable to move.

"Sam," Tucker whispered, "Wake him up. She can't get him, or we're dead."

Sam didn't seem to hear him at first, still staring at the smoking body of Kwan's ghost on the floor, a horrified expression on her face. He called her name several times, a little louder each time, and he had been about to try and edge his way past the ghost to do it himself, when she looked at him. Comprehension finally entered her eyes when Tucker started motioning at Danny, and she pinched him, hard, causing Danny to jerk his arm away and break eye contact with the ghost.

"Danny!" Tucker yelled, "Blast her!"

Years of working together kicked in, the urgency in Tucker's voice reaching Danny mind directly on a subconscious level, and without hesitating he raised his hands again and let go of the biggest ecto blast he could muster in his human form.

"YES", Tucker screamed, "Go for it Danny!"

Laura was launched backwards, as Kwan had earlier, coming to a stop close to the wall, a gaping, sizzling hole where her chest should have been. She stared at Danny, her face contorted with rage, and then looked down at the hole, which started closing up.

Danny was panting with exertion, sweat dripping from his face, his eyes wide in terror and rage, showing tiny green sparks that signified great emotional turmoil. Tucker wondered what she had been doing to him. He hands were glowing green again, as if readying another ecto blast, and Laura let out an unearthly scream that had them all cover their ears.

"Die!" She screeched, and then everything happened all at once.

The earth started shaking, stones started falling down from the ceiling and Tucker fell to his knees. A stone painfully hit his shoulder and he cried out in pain. Then more stones started flying, not from the ceiling, but from the walls, coming loose, hovering in the air for a moment and then thrust forward by the mad ghost. Tucker heard Danny and Sam calling his name, and he realized that they wanted him to get close to them, so Danny could turn them all intangible.

He started crawling to them, blinded by the dust, tasting it when it got into his mouth, coughing when he inhaled it. He heard their voices, and he moved, struggling on the shaking ground, thrown sidewards by a rock that hit him on the head.

Stunned, he laid there for a moment, on his stomach, his head pressed on the dusty floor, a small stone pressing into his cheek, his hands groping around aimlessly. The thundering sound of the falling ceiling and the flying rocks echoed through his mind, mingling with the distant voices of his friends, who seemed to get farther and farther away from him.

Just a little further, he thought, he'd be fine if he just started crawling. Painfully, he pushed himself to his hands and knees, realizing that his glasses were gone. One fleeting moment he wanted to go looking for them, and it took some willpower to convince his confused mind that glasses weren't his top priority now. Move, he thought, just move.

Something hit him from above, something heavy, something crushing, pinning him to the ground instantly and knocking all the air out of his lungs. He tried to breathe, and found that he couldn't, and that the pressure on him was building. His ribs cracked, and he couldn't cry out in agony, because he had no air.

"Danny," he thought, "Help me."

Consciousness was fading quickly, his awareness of his environment slipping as he stared ahead into nothingness, his mouth moving wordlessly in a last attempt to call his friend. He felt something dripping out of his mouth, and he thought, great, I'm drooling. Then he saw flashes of light and he wanted to close his eyes, but found that he no longer had control over them.

The place around him suddenly lit up, an eerie green, swirling, the walls, the ceiling, making it look like the cellar was made purely out of ectoplasm. Fascinated, Tucker stared at the figures and shapes it formed, as if one might stare at the snow on a TV screen. There were faces there, appearing and disappearing, his mother, his father, and for some reason, Mr Lancer. Danny was there, laughing at one of his own stupid funny stories, Sam, sitting in the shade of the tree near the school, scowling at him for something he said...

Darkness settled over him, the green walls disappeared, and he could no longer see. The noise around him ceased, to his relief, and he felt himself letting go. He was weightless now, dark, in a void.

"So this is death," he thought, and it was his last.

* * *

_If you need me, I'll be hiding under that rock over there..._


	9. Images

A/N: This is only half of the chapter... it got too long (over 6000 words, and still not finished), so I'm splitting it into two parts. So yes, this means that you get an extra chapter, just give me a couple of days to finish it and edit it, and it'll be up!

* * *

**THE HOUSE**

**Chapter 9: Images**

* * *

The noise around him was deafening, the falling stones and debris, the screaming of the two geeks who, for some reason, were holding on to him, and worst of all, the high pitched screeching of that eerie ghost woman, laughing madly while hurling stones at them. He felt strangely tingly, and for a moment wonder entered his mind, wonder about how lucky he was that he hadn't been hit yet. 

Neither had his companions. They didn't seem worried about that, but instead were staring into the cloud of dust, their eyes tearing, their voices hoarse from crying and screaming the name of the third nerd. Who had disappeared in the cloud.

Dash stared at his hand, and it seemed strangely not there. He could see his hand, see his fingers wiggling, but he could also see the stones and rubble behind his hand.

"I can see through my hand," he thought, and his brain refused to process that thought.

The noise and screams seemed to echo in the cellar, and through his mind, coming together as one sound that tore at his nerves and destroyed his brain. He kept staring at his hand, moving it a little, turning it to look at the back, his eyes huge and glazed. He could feel it, he felt his fingertips, but _nothing else_. He should be feeling the dust and stones that fell through it, through him, but there was just that strange, tingly feeling, as if he wasn't there. As if he was... a _ghost_.

Dead. He was dead.

The screaming stopped, and the silence was so abrupt that Dash fell on his back, hitting the ground painfully with his head. Dust still hung thickly in the air, sparsely lit by only one of those green balls Fenton had made. Again, like before, his mind refused to go any further than that. Fenton made glowing green balls and made them fly. Period.

Slowly, he moved his hands, feeling the rubble on the floor, the large stones that had somehow missed him, now sticking painfully in his back. He almost started to cry when he realized he could _feel_ again.

He heard the other two move around, talking to each other frantically, but he couldn't understand a word they were saying. The sound of it started pounding his head and he closed his eyes tightly, putting his hands over his ears, trying to block out the gibberish.

"Nice things," he thought to himself, remembering his mother's advice from when he was young and had had nightmares, "Think nice things, friendly things, football, ice cream, puppy dogs, soap opera."

He smiled a little. His eyes were still closed, his hands still over his ears, but he relaxed, tuning out the world around him.

* * *

"Tucker?" 

Sam's voice sounded hoarse, strangely loud in the silence of the cellar. The assault had stopped suddenly, and the ghost had disappeared, leaving only the dust and the stones and sand of the partially caved in cellar. The faint glow of the last remaining ecto ball lit only their direct environment, and all Danny could see was Sam's terror stricken face and Dash's bulky form on the ground, laying perfectly still.

"Good," Danny thought, "Be quiet for a while, so we can figure out what to do."

He waited for a moment, half expecting the voice to comment on that, but she seemed to have abandoned him. A tinge of regret hit him briefly. He really could use some advice right now.

"Danny?"

Irritably, he looked at his friend.

"I'm alright. Stop fussing," he said.

He turned around, staring into the cloud of dust again, trying to see through it and catch a glimpse of his friend, who was strangely quiet. Tucker was never quiet. He should have answered by now, and Danny figured he was unconscious. Finding him, however, should be very easy. He closed his eyes and opened his mind, a little. It was a mistake.

_Rocks, stones, sand, dirt, rubble, more stones, a cockroach, spiders, lots of spiders, a dead mouse, rotting in the corner, too far away, get back, get back, shackles, on the wall, stuck, he was stuck, his brother had put him in the cellar and he had screamed and screamed and now his voice was gone oh his voice was gone and he was hungry and thirsty and the rats were closing in on him and were nibbling on his toes and he couldn't move couldn't move..._

A sharp pain in his shins...

_...death... a dead body, close by, blood on the ground, shattered glasses..._

His knees buckled and he fell down on them, wrapping his arms around his body. Somebody started moaning, crying and he vaguely realized that it was his own voice. Dirty, bloody hands grabbed him and shook him, shouting his name, telling him to get back to her, she needed him sane, he could go crazy any time he wanted to when they got out of there, but not here, not now.

He blinked. Two amethyst eyes looked into his, the terror in them making him almost want to wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was alright, that he would get them out of there, would get her safe. Instead, he slowly shook his head, feeling the tears stinging behind his eyes. He didn't want to know what his own eyes looked like.

"No," she said hoarsely, "He can't be. Come on, let's find him, he wasn't that far away..."

She crawled away from him and started digging into the rubble with her bare hands, moving the stones and rocks, frantically pulling them aside. Danny sat on his knees and looked at her for a while, and then moved closer and grabbed her hands. Angrily, she tore them away from him and continued digging.

"Sam," he said, and he was surprised at the strength of his voice, "Not here. Come."

He pulled her away and started climbing over the debris, moving in the direction of the wall. He stopped at the spot he had felt the body, buried under a large amount of rocks and stones and a partially caved in wall.

"Here," he said.

Sam didn't look at him, but started digging immediately. After a moment, he started helping her, phasing the larger rocks out of the rubble and moving them aside, careful not to cause another cave in. It didn't take them long.

A sharp gasp from Sam alerted him, and he quickly moved closer to her to see what she had found. It was a hand, a light brown hand, a hand that should be holding his PDA, frantically moving his fingers over the controls, instead of sticking out of the rubble of a caved in wall, clawing into the ground.

He felt his heart constrict, a pain in his chest that made him gasp, and he felt Sam do the same beside him. He had known what he would find, but actually seeing it now made him realize that knowing and seeing with your own eyes were two different things. Without saying a word, he started clearing Tucker's arm, his shoulders, his head.

Two brown eyes stared vacantly at him, boring into him, accusing him. His mouth was half open, and a dark pool of blood had leaked out of it, signifying major internal injuries. Tucker was crushed to death.

Sam didn't stop, like he had, but instead continued to move the rubble away from him, until she reached a particularly large stone that was on his back.

"Help me with this," she grunted, without looking back.

"Sam," Danny said quietly, "It's no use. He's dead."

"Help me with this!" she screamed, "It's crushing him! We need to get it off him! We need to..."

Her voice was cut short when he grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away from the big rock she had been trying to move. She kicked and screamed and part of him wanted to join her, wanted to lose himself, feeling that if he just tried harder, they could undo all of this and everything would be alright again. Just go back a few hours, only a few hours, and walk away from the house, instead of carrying out their stupid plan. An even darker part of him just wanted to hit her right back.

"Hush," he said, hoping that she would quiet down somewhat before her screaming would drive him over the edge, "I'll move the rock, just... just hush. Sam. Be quiet. I'll do it."

His voice seemed to calm her and she stopped kicking him, instead slumping against him and burying her face in his shoulder. He felt her warmth, her tears, and tentatively he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He felt her shivering, shaking all over, and felt himself shaking as well, breathing haltingly, hiccuping as if he had been crying. He looked over Sam's head at the still form of his best friend and closed his eyes, burying his face in Sam's hair.

"_...Why don't you kiss her already... you know you want to..."_

He stiffened. "Shut up," he choked, "Leave me alone."

Soft laughter came from all around him again and he tried desperately to cut her off again, to block out that insane laughter. Pushing Sam away from him, he staggered to the rock that was crushing Tucker, turned it intangible and moved it aside. He sank to his knees and just sat there, looking idly at his fried, uncertain of what to do. Then he saw something sticking out of the rubble, something he recognized, and he grabbed it and pulled it free.

Tucker's glasses. They were broken, the glass was shattered and one of the arms was crooked. He made a half hearted attempt to right it, and then placed it next to Tucker's face. Light movement next to him told him that Sam was sitting there too, now silent, seemingly accepting the fact that their friend wouldn't make it out of there.

"He's really gone, isn't he," she said hoarsely, briefly touching Tucker's face.

Danny nodded mutely. The enormity of what had happened hit him. They had gone into this house as a joke, something exiting to do on an otherwise uneventful Friday night, and now two people were dead. Irreversibly dead. This wasn't a joke, this was for real, and up until now he had had the feeling that they could somehow undo what had happened, as if it wasn't real, as if it was some sort of computer game.

"No cheat codes for life," he thought, remembering Mr. Lancer's comment years ago.

It struck him as incredibly funny somehow, that he would think about something like that at a time like this, and he started to laugh.

"Game over," he gasped, laughing and laughing, until Sam slapped him in the face and he started crying.

_He had been hammering on the chain for hours, using a brick from the wall, but it had been no use. He had only succeeded in hurting his hand, hitting it when he had wanted to hit the chain that attached him to the wall. It was badly swollen, he could hardly move his thumb, and blood was trickling down from his fingers. The wound worried him. If it got infected, he was as good as dead. He didn't think his brother would call a doctor if he got sick._

_The light of the lantern flickered suddenly, and a new wave of fear went through him, paralyzing him for a moment, until he realized the flame was still there, a little unsteady, but burning. He thought he wouldn't be able to bear it if it was completely dark._

_He cried a little, wallowing in his self-pity, thinking about the unfairness of it all. His brother had locked him up in the cellar of his new house, after keeping him under guard for more than a year. For more than a year, there had been somebody with him all the time, making it impossible for him to sneak away and find a pretty girl to be with. And now he had locked him up, left him here to rot. He had laughed at him, telling him that he was a fool, a liability, and that he would now be close to his girl friends forever, and he should be happy, for he, Slobodan Drakovitch, was merciful. He left him a light._

_The quiet of the cellar was almost unbearable, making him hear every sound. His breath, rasping, difficult from the lack of water, the irregular pounding of his heart, the scurrying feet of the rats that got bolder by the minute, sensing that it wouldn't be long. He wondered if they would start on him before he was even dead, and decided that, yes, that was very likely._

"_Go. Away," he hissed at them._

_They didn't move, but instead just sat there, just outside the circle of light provided by the lantern, their dark eyes shining. The flame flickered again, making a popping sound. A familiar, popping sound, and his fear rose up to new heights. Pop, pop, pop. In fascination he stared at the flame that danced inside the lantern, sucking out the last oil from it, burning away his life. And then, with a last pop, it went out. The darkness was complete, smothering him and he found it even harder to breathe, as if he was somehow under water. Moments later he felt a sharp sting in his left foot. A rat had taken a bite out of him. He started screaming._

She was shaking him, and he stopped screaming. Slowly, the cellar and their current situation came back into focus, a situation not much better than he had been in during his... absence? He shivered, still feeling the remnants of the terror of the man he had been, a man he was now sure died in this cellar, died from starvation, dehydration, or maybe even from being eaten alive by rats. He didn't want to know.

"_The rats ate little Goran," _the house sang, "_First his feet, then his hands, then his pretty face..."_

A horrible image flickered through his head, and he almost started screaming again, but Sam grabbed his hands and pulled him up, dragging him back to where Dash was still laying on the ground, curled into a ball, sucking his thumb. He had a happy expression on his face, as if he was dreaming something nice, shutting out reality. Danny could actually sympathize with him.

"Danny," Sam said, tugging his arm to get his attention, "I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to get out of here. Can you...go ghost? Phase us out?"

He shivered, thinking about the last time he had gone ghost, in the dining room, that strange dream that had suddenly become reality when he hadn't killed the strange man from his dream, but Kwan, burning him, not listening to his screams of agony and fear, overtaken by a need to burn him until he died. He had become that what he was most afraid of, a monster.

"I.. I don't know," he said, letting go of her hand and wrapping his arms around him, "It might be dangerous... I can't phase us out anyway, the walls... I can't phase through them. Like we're in the ghost zone."

He stared at the walls, which seemed to be solid, made of dark stones, crumbling, totally real. Tentatively, he placed his hand on a stone and pushed, but it wouldn't bulge. Yet he knew this wasn't what it seemed, he had seen, felt, the strange distortion, the manipulation of the dimensions by the house itself. Then he wondered what the house really was. There were hundreds of ghosts here, but they acted as one being, seemingly all under control of 'Laura', whoever she was. If he could take control, for just a minute, they'd be out of there...

He turned to Sam and told her his theory, and she nodded in agreement, trying to focus on Danny's reasoning, every now and then glancing in the direction Tucker was laying. Danny knew that she was on the verge of a breakdown, and he knew that he wasn't far from it either.

"Get out," he thought, "Get out and then break down. If we break down now, we'll end up like Dash."

He took a deep breath, pushed all the unwelcome thoughts about the possibility that the house would grab him out of mind, and reached. The coldness was there, as always, but there was something else there too. A contamination, an alien compound, something that shouldn't be there, something wiggling and churning like worms, maggots, making him feel that there was something alive inside of him. He drew back immediately, wincing, teeth clattering as he realized that the house had somehow infected him with something.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked, trying to keep her voice steady, only marginally succeeding.

Danny couldn't answer her, he just stared, letting the waves of terror flow over him, trying to suppress the feeling of wanting to throw up, or start clawing at himself to tear that what was inside of him out. Reality slipped again, the walls changed, stretched and he whimpered when he felt it, coming from inside of him.

"Danny! You can fight it! Fight it!"

Sam's desperate voice was his only anchor, and he grabbed it. He had no choice, he needed to get her out of there, needed to get Dash out of there, and maybe he himself could get out of there as well. Again, he reached, grabbing hold of his wiggling ghost form and let the two familiar rings appear around his waist, traveling up and down, changing him into the powerful ghost he was.

For a brief moment, he freaked out, feeling the worms moving beneath his skin as if they were digging holes there, eating their way through him, but then he managed to take control again. Ignoring the awful feeling, he looked around in amazement.

They were standing in the cellar, it's walls dripping from the green ectoplasm that was leaking out, surrounded by glowing green tentacles coming from the walls, the floor, the ceiling, moving like an anemone, reaching for him and his companions, touching them, stroking their skin. Sam and Dash didn't seem to feel it though, but he did.

"_Danny... Phantom... Ghost... Boy..."_

Not a voice. Voices. Hundreds of them. And as soon as he touched them, he would be lost, he would lose himself in the multitude until he no longer knew who he was, and then they could use him like they used the ghost of that little girl, a puppet, a slave. He didn't want to try. He didn't have a choice.

"Sam," he said, his voice sounding hollow, echoing through the cellar, "If you see the stairs, make a run for it. Take Dash with you."

He was going to add more, but she started shaking her head.

"You're coming with me, or I'm not going," she said, "I can't carry Dash anyway."

"You don't understand," Danny said, irritated by the fact that she didn't listen to him, again, "I'm not sure if I'll be able to do this at all. And if they get me..."

"Then we're doomed anyway," she answered, just as irritably, "Either you manage to get us all out, or we're never going to get out. And then I prefer a quick death, instead of starving down here."

She had a point. He shivered when he thought about the rats, and the house kindly provided him with an image of his friend, laying on the ground, her face eaten away. That, more than anything, strengthened his resolve, and he placed his feet firmly on the ground, touching the pool of ectoplasm that was visible only to him. Then he stretched his arms and grabbed two of the tentacles.

_Pain... weightless, infinite, dark, light, green, flashes in his face like a stroboscope, hurting his eyes... more pain, his arms, painful spasms, his muscles seemingly torn apart, his skin breaking, bleeding, his throat hurting from the endless scream he let out..._

_White. Strange surroundings, a forest, inverted, negative. White trees, white sky, black flames in the clearing, a huge fire, but black, somebody screaming in pain and anger, cursing the people standing around it. Sam, he thought illogically, they're burning Sam._

_His thoughts were obliterated, squashed mercilessly, and there was pain again, but it was not his pain anymore. The house shared his pain, welcomed him, comforted him, soothed him, told him it was alright, they knew it hurt, but it would get better and they'd be so powerful..._

_Desperately, no longer knowing why, he tried to hold on to himself, knowing it was important that he do so, no longer understanding the reason why. He was the house, and every ghost in it, residing in it's walls, it's foundation, streaming through it, being everywhere at once. He rolled and danced, reveling in the feeling that he could do anything, be anywhere, sharing the amusement of the other ghosts about the dead body in the dining room, feeling the confused terror of the ghost of said body, trapped in there with him._

_Trapped._

_Eternity. He would be trapped here forever. And Sam would die, eaten alive by the rats._

_He started to push, feeling the sudden alarm of the other ghosts through the link, trying to get himself together again. They pulled back, and he felt the power seep out of him, felt their control over him tightening, felt their malice, their anger at him for even trying. He also felt the weakness, the lack of consistency, the conflict, the reason they struck out at him, and then pulled back again, regrouping, recuperating. The dominance of the one ghost, Laura, was precarious at best, she was holding them down, a growling mob, ready to take her down at every opportunity. Not that she gave any. He felt them pulling at him, trying to bring him over to their side, pleading, crying, hissing. They did need him. And they would get him.  
_

"_No," he choked, but his concentration was faltering._

_They were tearing him apart. He felt himself being split into pieces by the worms that were inside of him, cutting through him as if he was some dead body... which he was. But he was also alive... Desperately, he pulled back, kept himself together, and let the warmth take over again._

The cellar came into view again, distorted and twisted, the tunnel they seemed to be in stretching into infinity. He was still attached to the house and it's strange collective of ghosts, who were now screaming at him. A strange, flickering, white light lit the tunnel, and he realized it came from him as the lightning raked over his body, coming from the walls he knew himself to be attached to by the invisible tentacles. On some level, he knew it hurt, he knew he was screaming, but another part of his brain had temporarily taken over.

Through his watering eyes, infuriatingly unfocused, he looked at the distortion that was the cellar, seeing it's structure, and he tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. With a strange detachment, he noticed his body sweating an writhing in pain, convulsing with the shocks that went through him. He'd better end this soon.

With one big pull, he yanked the place back into it's normal proportions, showing the stairs to be only three feet away from them. Turning his uncooperative body slightly, he motioned at Sam to get going, but she just stood there, shaking her head. He looked at Dash and sighed inwardly. If the coward hadn't fainted, they would have been able to make a run for it. Something else needed to be done.

"This is gonna hurt," he thought to himself.

Slightly grateful that he was still oddly detached from himself, he let his human hands glow green, gathering energy, even using some of the energy from the lightning that struck him again and again, powering up for the most powerful ectoblast he could muster. Clenching his teeth, wincing in the prospect of what was going to happen, he fired directly into the tentacles.


	10. Fire

A/N: This is it, guys. After this, only the epilogue.

* * *

**THE HOUSE**

**Chapter 10: Fire**

* * *

She looked at him, his white hair hanging in his face, the skin tight black hazemat suit showing a body that had hardened from the many fights he had been in. Like every time, she allowed herself a brief moment of admiration, before shutting off that train of thought again. His glowing green eyes held a strange expression in them, as he nervously eyed the walls of the cellar. Then he looked at her again and stretched his arms, seemingly grabbing hold of something invisible, and all hell broke loose. 

He screamed, and his body arched backwards, writhing in pain as flashes of lighting came out of the walls, going through his arms, raking his body. She stumbled backwards and almost fell over Dash, who still had his eyes closed tightly. The scream seemed to go on forever, and she felt tears falling from her eyes, tears because Danny was in so much pain and she could do nothing to help him. She could only hope.

He started convulsing, and then suddenly two white rings appeared around his waist, sparkling and sizzling from the extra power, slowly going over his body, changing him back, turning him human. Her relief was short-lived, however, because the lightning didn't cease, and was now battering his human body, which didn't have the stamina and endurance of his ghostly self.

She just stood there, watching, wondering how much more he could take. His hair was wet, sweat was pouring down his face, but his eyes were open, staring through her, unseeing. And then, suddenly, the world slammed back into place. She felt a tremor going through her, the ground was shaking, but there it was, the bottom of the stairs, only three feet away from them.

"We were right there," she thought in amazement, "So close... and yet so far away."

Danny moved a little, and looked at her, seemingly aware of her presence. He made a slight nod in the direction of the stairs, but she shook her head. She wasn't going to let him sacrifice himself, she couldn't get Dash out on her own, and besides, there was no telling what would happen if the house got a hold of Danny. He needed to get out of there as much as she did.

He seemed to roll his eyes, strangely misplaced in his face that was contorted in pain, and then his hands started glowing. Sam shielded her eyes from the brightness of it and crouched down next to Dash, ready to grab one of his arms when Danny managed to get himself free.

A green flash, so bright that it hurt her eyes, and then darkness again, infinite darkness. The lightning had stopped, and she heard a soft thud, like a body falling on the floor. She couldn't see anything other than bright orange and green balls dancing in front of her, her eyes blinded by the intense glare of the lightning and the ectoblast Danny had fired.

Somebody moaned, and she moved, crawling into the direction she estimated Danny would be, feeling her way across the uneven ground. She touched his hair, his head, his shoulders, and started shaking him.

"Danny," she hissed, "Come on, wake up, we have to get out of here, you can take a nap later."

"Leave me alone," he muttered.

Her eyes were starting to get used to the darkness now, and she noticed that the darkness wasn't as complete as she thought it was. She could see the walls, the stairs, the door at the top, all slightly glowing with an eerie green glow, and it was getting brighter...

Whatever Danny did to the house, it was recovering fast. She shoved him, pinched his arms and he yelped in pain. She felt bad about doing this to him, he must be sore all over, but she needed his help and she needed it fast. She shook him by the shoulders again, and his head rolled from left to right. Shakily, he brought his hands to hers and grabbed her by her wrists with a strength she didn't know he still had. He opened his eyes and she gulped when she saw the expression in there.

Terror, pain, hatred, madness. They alternated quickly, and she whimpered softly when his grip on her wrists started hurting her. Then he suddenly let go of her and rolled over, crawled away from her and threw up, crying and coughing. She moved closer to him and placed her hands on his shoulders, trying to comfort him while apprehensively eying the increasing brightness of the glowing walls.

With some difficulty, he staggered to his feet, and she grabbed his arm to steady him. Together they stumbled to Dash, and without preamble Danny kicked the jock in the ribs.

"Get up, you moron," he said hoarsely, "This is no time to sleep."

Dash responded by curling into a ball even tighter, shaking his head feverishly while frowning angrily, as a small child would. Danny hesitated, seemingly considering leaving the jock here, but Sam knew he couldn't do that, that his 'saving people' thing was still there. At least, she hoped it was. Danny kicked Dash again, harder this time, a malicious expression on his face, and Sam almost turned to run.

But then he bend over and grabbed one of the blond jocks arms, prying it away from him, forcing Dash's thumb out of his mouth. Dash whimpered. Sam quickly came to his aid, grabbing Dash's other arm as best as she could, helping Danny to hoist him up between them.

Dash was heavy. She heard Danny grunt under his weight, and she realized he wasn't well, he was hurt himself, and she started worrying that they wouldn't be able to get him up the stairs. But then they moved, Danny pulling the jock along, his feet dragging on the floor, and they actually made it a few steps up the stairs, before they had to let go of him.

"Come on," Danny said, "Let's just drag him."

They each grabbed an arm and started pulling, one step at a time, bumping Dash up with every agonizingly slow step they took. Sam started panting, her muscles started aching, and her legs were trembling from the exertion. Next to her, Danny wasn't doing much better, gasping for air in short, painful gasps.

Halfway up the stairs, the cellar started distorting again and she stopped, looking around her wildly, feeling sick from the fear that rose up in her, reaching new heights. She felt paralyzed again, like she had before in the living room, just after she woke up from that awful dream. But then Danny put his hand on the wall, a grim expression on his face, and it stopped, but the glow on the wall increased.

They started pulling again, heaving an now struggling Dash up further and further, until they reached the door.

"It must be locked, I know it's locked," Sam thought, but she was wrong.

Danny placed his hand on the door and pushed, and it swung open, revealing once more the filthy kitchen, looking peaceful, as if nothing had happened. But the cabinets were glowing as well, light shining through the edges of the doors. They struggled to their feet, quickly climbing the last few steps, hurling Dash on the ground in the kitchen. The door to the cellar slammed shut behind them, and now that she looked at it closely, she saw that there were in fact two doors. One leading to the hallway, and one leading to the cellar. They had taken the wrong door.

Danny turned to her and opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a sudden movement from Dash, who sprang to his feet. For a moment, Sam was amazed at the jocks swift recovery, but then she saw his eyes. They were red.

Before she could shout a warning, Dash launched himself at Danny, slamming him into the counter with a painful thud, and Danny cried out in pain. Dash started hitting him, mindlessly planting his fists in Danny, who was to stunned to move away in time. His head flipped backwards from the force of Dash's punches and he tried to hit the overshadowed jock back with a few punches of his own, but he was weakened from his ordeal in the cellar. He was losing.

Sam looked around the kitchen frantically, searching for a weapon, and her eyes fell on a piece of wood, looking like the leg of a chair. She dove for it, grabbed it tightly and swung it at Dash's head, hitting him as hard as she could.

The jock screamed an unearthly scream, and he let go of Danny, who sank to the floor, his shirt red from the blood that ran out of his nose. Before Dash could turn around completely, however, Sam hit him again at the left side of his head, and for a moment she thought she had broken the piece of wood from the sound of it, but then she saw that it was still in one piece. The boy went down without a sound.

Shaking, Sam dropped her improvised club and dropped on her knees beside Danny, who was sitting with his back against the cabinets, dazed. He looked awful. The bruise he had received from Dash earlier that evening was now dark blue, covering the side of his face, blood was running freely out of his nose and his split lip, and Sam could see several red spots that would probably turn into bruises as well. But all of that would have to wait.

"Danny," She screamed at him, "Lets go!"

He obeyed, pushing himself up, wiping his arm over his face and then staring at the red smear he left on it. Sam pushed him to the door, but he turned around and grabbed an arm of the unconscious jock and started pulling. Sam sighed, knowing he was right, the jock couldn't help himself, he had been overshadowed. Angrily, she grabbed his other arm, and together they dragged him to the door that led to the garden.

It disappeared. Stunned, Sam stared at the brick wall in front of her, and she felt her hope fade away. They would never get out of this cursed place, the house wouldn't let them go. She turned to Danny and stared into his vacant eyes, no longer having the strength to pull him out of his stupor once again.

She let the jock slide to the floor once again, absentmindedly noticing the trickle of blood coming out of his left ear. Tentatively, she touched Danny's arm, and he suddenly grabbed her hand, squeezing it tightly, and then she heard it.

A voice, whispering, laughing, poisonous words flowing through her mind, through Danny's mind, suggesting he let go of Dash, to finish what his girlfriend had started, to dispose of her too, to join them. She wondered if this was what he had been hearing all this time, if this was the reason he had been looking so stressed, looking around frantically as if searching for the origin of the voice only he could hear, and every now and then screaming out loud to leave him alone. She also remembered that if she could get him to listen to her instead, she could get him out

His grip on her hand started to become painful, and she tried to pull back, only succeeding in having him hold on to her even tighter. She realized he was struggling, trying to hold on to her, trying to get back to her while his mind was being invaded by the ghosts of the house. Opening her mouth, she let out the loudest scream she could come up with, right next to his ear.

"Aaarh," he yelled, letting go of her hand and grabbing his ears, wincing in pain from the loud screech.

But his eyes were focused again, if somewhat wild looking, and he stared at the wall in front of him in confusion. Then he looked at his hands, as if they were fascinating, but Sam couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"What's happening to me," he whispered, and she heard the hysteria behind his voice.

She shook him.

"I don't know," she said urgently, "Let's find out, outside."

He wasn't listening to her, staring at his hands instead, turning them in front of him as if examining the blood and dirt on them.

"Worms," he croaked, "Can't you see them? They're... they're..."

They were so close. Only that blasted wall in front of them, blocking their way out, and it wasn't even real. It was real enough to keep them inside, though. Sam felt the rising panic inside of her, and she knew she was on the verge of collapse, of screaming mindlessly, or curling into a ball like Dash had, Dash, whom she probably killed, from the look of his bleeding ear. She grabbed Danny's head and force him to look at her.

"You. Have. To. Concentrate," she said, willing her words to enter his mind.

His mouth twitched and he looked at her in despair.

"I don't wanna do it," he muttered, and she had no idea of what he was talking about, "I'm a monster, Sam, I'm sorry."

Before she could tell him not to be an idiot, he pushed her away from him, and let the two white rings appear around his waist, a look of terror and disgust on his face. She didn't know what made him resent his ghost half suddenly, but it couldn't be good.

When the transformation was complete, he immediately started hovering, his eyes shooting from one direction to the other, and she realized he was actually _more_ vulnerable in his ghost form in this house, not less. She was about to ask him what he had in mind, when she suddenly saw the tiny flames dancing in his eyes.

"Burn," he hissed.

Sam blinked. And in that blink, the house changed. She was in a box made of fire, blazing around her, the flames consuming the walls, the ceiling and the door frame that was right in front of her. The door was there, crooked, ajar, burning. Beneath her feet, the wooden planks were smoking.

Then the heat hit her, the air she was breathing burning her lungs, and she started coughing. Smoke filled the room, glowing orange in the flames, growing thicker, and obscuring her view on the door. The flames seemed to scream somehow, or maybe it was the house itself that was screaming, hundreds of voices sounding as one, crying out in pain and rage. She definitely needed to get out of there.

And then he was next to her, a cool hand grabbing her arm, grabbing Dash, who was still laying at her feet, and lifting them, flying in the direction of the door at high speed. The door frame seemed like a burning gate, and she screamed when they hit the door full force, despite his attempt at intangibility.

The door flew open, and they burst out of the madly burning house into the garden in a rain of sparks, crashing to the ground with a force that knocked the air out of her lungs. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, and she just laid there, wheezing, trying to get her chest moving again, gasping for the smoke filled, yet, in comparison, fresh air outside the house.

A bright flash next to her, bright enough to even outshine the orange flames of the house, told her that Danny had just reverted back to human again. Gasping, wheezing, she pushed herself up, willing herself to take a look at him, to see whether the transformation was intentional, or if he just passed out. She hoped it wasn't the latter, she didn't know how to carry two boys out of there.

And they did need to get out of there. They were only ten feet from the house, and the heat started burning her skin. She pushed Danny's still form and to her relief, he moved his arm, aimlessly groping around until he found the ground and managed to push himself up on his hands and knees.

He looked awful, and she realized that he had taken the full impact of them hitting the door, which was now laying flat on the ground, burst out of it's hinges. Blood was streaming down his face from a cut just below the hair line, and she could also see multiple cuts on his hands. But his eyes, although slightly unfocused, told her that he was at least aware of their surroundings.

"Let's get out of here," he yelled, or that was what he intended, but it came out as a whisper.

Struggling to her feet, Sam again grabbed one of Dash's arms, while Danny took hold of the other. Together they started pulling, dragging the heavy jock through the grass and nettles, staggering and falling down every two or three steps. But they were making progress, they were getting away, and at long last they stopped, far enough away from the house not to be directly affected by the heat, but still feeling the intensity of the fire. Only then she noticed that it was still raining, water dripping from her hair, cooling her hot skin, extinguishing the fire.

Danny saw it too. He started shaking his head, muttering to himself as he clambered to his feet. Swaying, he stood there, his face turned towards the house, his arms stretched in front of him. Sam couldn't see a thing, didn't know what he was doing, but the flames sprang up higher again, reaching the roof, the treetops, lighting the garden and the forest like an angry beacon. Sam wondered if the fire could be seen from Amity Park, and if there was anybody awake to see it.

A loud wail suddenly joined the thundering of the flames, and Danny started to shake. To Sam's horror, the flames suddenly looked like people, burning people, running around madly, trying to escape their fate, screaming in agony. But the fire was unstoppable now, and even the rain couldn't extinguish it anymore. Part of the roof caved in, sending a cloud of sparks and burning debris into the garden.

Danny's knees buckled and he went down, screaming, rolling on the ground, trying to pad out invisible flames. It hit her that he must still be linked to the house somehow, and was feeling it's burning, or maybe the house was trying to pull him in, to join them in their inferno.

She grabbed his flailing hands, squeezing them, yelling at him to focus on her. He tried to yank himself free from her, writhing, moaning, but she pulled him close and forced him down, a feat she only accomplished because he was weakened considerably. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only minutes, he calmed down, but she kept holding on to him, letting the rain soak them both, Dash laying forgotten behind her.

* * *

_The flames were still thundering through his mind, and he could feel their heat, he was their heat, the tiny glowing carbon particles that made up the orange flames. His skin was peeling away from him, blistering and breaking. Faces flashed before his eyes, faces surrounded by flames, a little girl glaring at him, her eyes an uncanny red. Other faces as well, and he knew them all, was them all, and together they were burning._

Cool hands that grabbed him, a familiar voice, yelling at him that it wasn't real, it was the house that was burning, not him.

_But I am the house, he thought, confused. The thought took hold, however, and he pulled away, concentrating on something else. The world was alive around him, the grass he was laying on, the nettles, stinging his arms, the pebbles and stones and rocks in the ground, grains of sand... he admired their structure, their angular shape, the way the light from the flames broke through the slightly transparent particles._

His already painful head started to pound. There were animals around them, insects crawling nearby, worms digging through the ground. Their presence disturbed him, and every time he tried to pull away, to concentrate on himself, he felt himself turning to yet another peculiarity, an object, or something living.

His mind was a haze, a cacophony of noises and movements, and beings, touching him without really touching him. He clenched his fists, holding on to the person who was holding him, feeling her shivers, her warmth that was quickly leaving her, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He realized he was slumped against her, his face buried into her stomach, and he had his arms wrapped around her waist.

Slowly, he relaxed, feeling himself go weightless, feeling the darkness closing in on him. The noise of the flames and the animals and the growing grass wasn't so loud now, and the wiggling cold inside of him, his tainted ghost form, seemed to get further and further away from him. He heard her voice, far away, echoing, telling him to stay with her, not to leave her, she couldn't live without him.

"Sure you can, Sam," he thought.


	11. Epilogue

A/N: This is the epilogue/one shot the whole story was based on... I started this months ago, but stopped writing it because I didn't know where I was going. So I did a one shot, based on what I had started. If I hadn't written the story, I would have published this as a stand alone story. As it is, it serves as the epilogue. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**THE HOUSE**

**Epilogue**

* * *

The black haired man stood on the overgrown path, surrounded by trees and bushes. His feet sunk a little in the grassy underground, making hard to see indents in the dirt. The warm air surrounded him like a blanket, and not so much as a breeze was there to cool his face. In that stillness, he could hear insects buzzing, a distant bird chirping, the occasional car going by on the road behind him. 

"Green," he thought, as his blue eyes scanned the advancing forest, "Everything is so green."

It seemed inappropriate for some reason. The place should be black and dead, nothing should be able to grow there. But there it was, the forest was reclaiming the property, and in fact, the only way to recognize that something had once been there was the big iron gate behind him, pushed out of it's hinges by his supernatural strength nobody suspected he still had.

The house was gone, so completely as if it never existed, but the foundations were still there, hidden underneath the vegetation. He could feel it. Closing his eyes, he started to probe his surroundings, feeling the grass, the undergrowth, every leaf of every tree. And the blackened stone of the cellar that was still there, it's entrance blocked by rubble. Entombing his friend.

He didn't want to go any further, but he couldn't stop now. He saw his heightened senses as a curse, always feeling every detail of what was around him, distracting him, overwhelming him, unless he numbed them with any sedative he could lay his hands on. Still, he wished he had had that ability before entering the house, six years ago. They would never have entered if he had been able to sense even a fraction of what he was detecting now.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," he muttered.

The things that seemed to important then had all faded away. Looking back on it, the Dumpty Humpty concert they didn't see after all, homework, fighting ghosts, his slipping grades... he had realized the unimportance of it all only after that disastrous night. Of course he had felt something from that house, and so had his friends. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he was responsible for Tucker's death as much as he had killed Kwan.

He always tried to avoid thinking about Kwan, but the memory of the blackened corpse was never far from his mind. Unlike Dash, who remembered nothing, the events from that night were etched into his mind, forever there, only a fleeting thought away from a terrifyingly real flashback. Dash, he thought, was the lucky one, even if he would never play football ever again, or even leave the mental institute he was in.

Brain damage. Even though Danny didn't show it, and in fact nobody believed it, he was damaged too. There was a presence inside of him, something that was nibbling at his ghost form, something that could be seen only from the corner of his eyes, mumbling, whispering in his mind. He could never make out what it was saying though. Part of the house was always with him.

Once set out, his senses were difficult to pull back in, and when he touched the solid back stone of the remains of the house he plunged right through, entering the cellar in all it's unnatural vastness. Of course it was dark there, pitch dark, any normal person walking around there wouldn't have been able to see anything at all. He wasn't a normal person, or even physically there, so he could see perfectly well. He pulled himself together for a bit, assuming a mist like form, concentrating on being in the cellar and nowhere else.

The house sensed his presence too, it seemed to welcome him in like a friendly grandmother, come on in son, I have tea and cookies. He suppressed a shudder and ignored her, but still going in deeper and deeper, until he had found what he was looking for. He had never wanted to do it in the past six years, always postponing it, but this was his last chance. So he had made sure he was sober and off any drugs, knowing he'd need his wits about him. The house could still catch him.

The... remains were laying in a corner, pressed against the wall, his clothes barely recognizable as such, his red beret still on his head. Next to him was his backpack with all his precious technology, which hadn't saved him. Danny studied him in a detached way, one of the advantages of leaving his body. He didn't feel so much then, his emotions seemed to be bound to his body somehow. Unfortunately he couldn't do it often, as it drained him completely. He'd probably be in bed for days after this.

It wasn't really Tucker anymore. Not his goofy, happy friend, always trying to get at date with a pretty girl, always fiddling with his PDAs, cracking jokes at the expense of his friends. Now he was just a bag of bones, almost rotted away, somehow having escaped the fire. For a brief, panicked moment Danny imagined his friend being trapped there in the cellar as the fire was blazing above him, trapped and unable to get out. But he knew that wasn't true, he had been dead already.

The house smiled at him, "Are you sure?"

He started to sweat, feeling the house close in on him. Even in it's diminished state, having been completely burnt to the ground in that intense, insanely hot ecto fueled fire, it still had power. Enough power to make him nervous. He started to pull back, but instead found himself closing in on Tucker until he was only inches from what had been his face. Tucker moved his head and turned his empty eye sockets at him, grinning. Pieces of his face were falling of him when he did that, and Danny tried to push him away, gagging.

He fell on top of Tucker, well, not really fell because he wasn't exactly there, but it felt like it. He could feel the corpse, the crushing of the brittle bones, the dampness of the rotting flesh.

"No," he thought, "Nonononono."

Mentally, he rolled away and looked up to the ceiling. The cellar seemed to waver, as it had done so many years ago and he knew he had to get out of there fast, or he would be stuck there forever, his mind in there and his body outside, comatose. A living hell.

"This was a mistake," he thought, "Sam was right. We should have just left."

It was to late for those thoughts now, but he couldn't help loosing himself in that self destructive thought train again for a moment. He was alone in that cellar, the house would eat him alive, he would be trapped there until his body withered away, and the house could take his soul. The house chuckled.

"For eternity," it said.

He felt a weight on his chest, as if the air around him was closing in on him, crushing him, pushing the life out of him. He pushed back, harder and harder, using all the energy he had left. It wasn't much. He had already used up most of it by entering the house in that way. He managed to create some room around himself, so that it at least didn't seem as if he was suffocating. But he couldn't get out.

Somewhere, his body had started walking, moving towards the house of it's own accord, as if somehow it wanted it's soul back. He could feel it moving, the muscles of his legs and arms, jerking unnaturally in a stiff walk, staggering forward through the bushes, scratching his hands, his arms, his face. He tried to reach out for it, unite with it again, and suddenly the weight of the house lifted and he was free.

"Go on," the house seemed to say, "Go ahead. Go back. To your pretty girlfriend, live happily ever after."

"She's not my girlfriend," he thought automatically, but if that was true then what was she still doing here with him, taking care of him, putting up with all his crap.

He held very still, wary of the fact that the house was letting him go just like that. There was a catch, there was always a catch, he never had a break with anything he was doing. It wouldn't just let him leave, walk out of here. It had been waiting for him for too long. And then he felt it. A creeping sensation, starting on his fingers, his hands, his arms. Something was seeping into him, a darkness, the essence of the house itself. And it had been doing that since he entered.

"NO!" he yelled, and he jerked back out of the house and slammed into his body.

* * *

Sam was getting impatient. She had been sitting in her car for thirty minutes now, waiting for Danny to finish... whatever he wanted to finish. They had argued about it for days, and she had tried to get him to change his mind, but he could be very stubborn sometimes. He had wanted to say goodbye to Tucker one last time, to get some sort of closure before they left Amity Park for good. 

She sighed, and stepped out of the car, peering through the rusty gates of that cursed house. He had been standing there a moment ago. Now he was gone. Worriedly she stepped through the gate, not really wanting to, but ready to bail him out of trouble once again.

She had been taking care of him in the past few years, ever since that fateful night Tucker and Kwan died and the house burnt down. She was the last one left to him, the only one he tolerated being near him. His parents, his teachers, his doctors had all given up on him, and only Jazz tried to keep some sort of contact with him. They didn't understand, only she did, why he was the way he was. And even she didn't know why he sometimes left all of a sudden, kept them worried for days and one time even weeks, before turning up again as if nothing had happened.

She didn't know where he went, she had tried looking for him, but of course if Danny didn't want to be found, he couldn't be found. She suspected that every now and then the onslaught on his hypersensitive senses just became too much for him. She dreaded the day he would disappear and never come back.

Even Vlad had tried to get through to him at one time, and in her desperation, she had let him, swallowing her pride and her disgust at the billionaire, telling herself that, although the guy was a creep who wanted to steal Danny's mother away and have him as his son, he still had Danny's best interests in mind. Danny's reaction had been... explosive. It had taken weeks to regain his confidence. Vlad had never shown his face again.

But now everything would change. They were leaving Amity Park, to the house she had bought with the money she had inherited from her grandmother when she turned twenty one. It was at a small lake in the middle of a forest, miles away from other houses, and more than fifteen miles away from the nearest town. She hoped he could find peace there. If only he hadn't had the stupid idea to visit the house one last time.

She pushed her way through the bushes, calling out to him while she approached the house, silently cursing him for breaking his promise not to go near it. She should have known better than to trust him, she supposed, but she had thought he would be as afraid of the place as she was. Like the first time, she could feel the darkness emanating from the place where the house had been. If only she had listened to her intuition then.

She tripped suddenly, and fell flat on her face, hitting her knee painfully on the root of a tree. Groaning in annoyance she pushed herself up, and turned around to see what it was she tripped over.

Feet.

"Danny," she gasped and crawled over to him, pushing the grass away that loomed over him as if he had been laying there a long time, face down, like an overgrown corpse. She reached his head and grabbed his shoulders, turning him on his back. Insects were crawling out of his mouth, his nose, there were holes where his eyes should be, and she couldn't make a sound as she looked into his gray face.

But then he sighed deeply and lazily opened his eyes, and to her relief she looked into his familiar blue orbs. It had been another illusion, one of the tricks the house liked doing, and it left her shaken to the core.

"Danny," she choked.

He blinked. "Hey," he said.

He pushed himself up on one arm, and smiled at her, extending his hand to wipe a stray hair out of her face. She sighed in relief.

"I thought...," she started, but he hushed her.

"Shhhh, it's OK. I'm alright. We're alright."

She hugged him briefly and he let her. Then she extended her hand and helped him up, knowing full well what he had been doing, and that it had drained him.

"Tucker?" she asked.

"Still there."

He didn't say anything more, and she knew he never would. In silence they walked back to the car, the taller Danny leaning on Sam's small frame. She helped him into the passenger seat, and taking one last look at the gate, slid into the driver's seat, started the car and drove away.

The house chuckled.

* * *

_Wow, I'm done. Finally. I think I'll be leaving the dark and angsty stories alone for a while now, even I can stand only so much pain and suffering... Thinking up a horror story on a nice spring day, and actually writing it down in the middle of the night are two totally different things._

_I think maybe (maybe!) there's a sequel in here somewhere. I mean, at some point somebody (Vlad?) is going to want to build a house on that spot again... :D And I didn't resolve everything. I'll do it if I can come up with a decent plot line._

_As for my reviewers... thanks for taking the time to tell me what you think. You helped shape this story with your comments, questions and encouragement. You don't know how helpful you've been:_

_Akia Starfrost, AvatarKatara38, cordria, crazychick6692, Dannyandsamlover, Devianta (who reviewed every single chapter :), DP fan, Dpcrazy, DPFreak, Dracozombie, Dutschie (bedankt!), Em Phantom, Esme Kali Phantom, FernClaw, Jessica0, Just call me Crazzy, Lemia, libragirl93, Luiz4200, Majalo, Manyara, Me-agaisnt-the-world, onlyreviews, pearl84, Plushiemon, PrincessVictoriaAnnMacbeth, Silver Shadowbreeze, Summers Rage, Thunderstorm101, Zilleniose, Zuzanny_

_And in alphabetical order too. Neat huh._

_Special thanks to Devianta, who convinced me to make this story a lot darker than I originally intended._

_Bye, for now,_

_uula_


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